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burntheedges · 1 day ago

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Pas de Deux Chapter 6

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.5k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: You can't avoid it any longer -- it's time for you and Din to talk.

a/n: I feel like this is the moment many of you have been waiting for, lol. I'm very excited to see your reactions! See my notes at the end and on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: gen, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions and videos), a bit more angst (sorry), but they are going to talk!

Chapter 6

You thought about your conversation with Kuiil as you walked to your rehearsal with Adrian, as you stretched and practiced in your morning classes, and as you took the stage over the weekend in Vince’s piece in the mixed program. You thought about it as you watched Din and Yuna in the Balanchine ballet and as you did your PT for your ankles and as you talked with Talia about your role in Midsummer. You thought about it as you sat on the bus home at night, so tired and achy that you needed something to think about to keep you awake.

You thought about it so much you barely had time to think about anything else.

Was Kuiil right? Was Din more uncertain than frustrated? Was he finding it difficult to communicate and connect in a way he hadn’t before, at CBC? You thought about seeing him on stage with Yuna, and how effortless that had seemed. But Balanchine’s choreography, more than so many others, was so technical, so focused on precision. There was so much less room for the dancer in a ballet where all of the space was taken up by striving for technical perfection.

In class, you let your eyes stray to Din for the first time in two weeks. You watched as he stretched and jumped and wondered if perhaps you had just been talking past each other.

What if he’s trying, and you simply haven’t realized it? What if he just doesn’t know how?

He’s never done this before, you reminded yourself.

Your mind was swimming as you stepped into the studio for your fourth rehearsal with Kuiil. You found Din was already there, as usual, and tried not to stare as you worried over your questions. You resolved to be more observant, this time.

And this time, because you were looking for it, you finally saw what Kuiil was talking about.

More than once, as you danced, Din reached for you, literally and figuratively. You leapt past and he oriented his body towards yours, echoing your movement. He turned, but kept his eyes on you as he did. You could see him trying in the ways he knew, to shape his movements around yours, to showcase his partner on stage, but his discomfort with improvisation shone through. The problem was that all of his movements were so stylistically different from yours, that there was little for you to hold on to. And so the two of you struggled to react to each other, as Kuiil had asked.

You tried. You tried to respond to him, to react, but it threw both of you off. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to improvise so drastically. Suddenly the dance was disjointed, and you fell so badly out of step in trying to turn towards him when he moved away from you that you stumbled.

The music stopped.

Din turned to look at Kuiil and you spun around to do the same.

Kuiil simply looked at you both for a moment, and then sighed. “I have pushed you too much, I think, and forgotten the basics of partnership. And you will need to work together, to connect more deeply, as we begin the second movement.” You started to shake your head, but Kuiil held up his hand. “No. Here is what we will do, as you prepare for Midsummer and Swan Lake.”

And then he gave you homework.

…

“So, what, is Kuiil going to lock you in a room until you talk to each other?” Adrian’s voice was teasing, but you could tell he meant it.

“Not quite,” you said. “But instead of rehearsal next week we’re supposed to try to get to know each other. To talk.”

He smirked at you. “Ooooh, to talk.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes?” You poked him in the side and he yelped. “Stop teasing me and help me figure out what to talk to him about.”

He laughed. “I think you know what to talk about. You just have to figure out how to get him to talk at all.”

You shook your head. “He’s talked to me. Just not about… this.” You waved your arm at all of the problems you’d been having in rehearsal.

Adrian seemed to consider that for a moment. “You know, you’re right. He does talk to you, in a way he doesn’t talk to anyone else.” He furrowed his brow. “Maybe all you need to do is ask.”

…

You followed Adrian’s advice and started with simply asking Din to meet you at the rehearsal studio, without Kuiil, to talk. He agreed readily and you decided to take that as a good sign.

It was the week of Midsummer’s debut, and you were focused to the point of distraction on your role as Hermia. You appreciated it for taking your mind off of the disaster that was the pas de deux, though, and by the time you found yourself outside of the studio where you’d meet Din you realized you’d barely thought about the meeting at all.

(Well, not much. Not as much as the week before, at least.)

He was, as usual, already inside.

You closed the door behind you and dropped your bag and shoes before moving to join him where he sat with his back to the mirror. As you slid down beside him, he nodded in greeting.

“So,” you said, when it became obvious Din wasn’t going to jump in first. “I think we both know what the problem is, but where do we start?”

You looked at Din and took a moment to observe him up close. He was staring straight ahead, but you didn’t think he was looking at anything in particular. He seemed too inside his own mind for that.

Just when you began to worry that you’d have to push him, that this wasn’t going to work because he wasn’t going to meet you halfway, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

You blinked, startled — you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. Did he think you meant he was the problem?

“What? Din, no—”

He shook his head and finally turned to look at you. His expression was as closed to you as always. “No, I want to say this. Let me… let me say this. I should have told you this weeks ago, but I can’t…” he trailed off, but this time you didn’t interrupt. You turned slightly towards him on the floor, extending your left leg and drawing your right knee to your chest. You gave him your full attention. He looked down at his hands and continued, softly. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve been so worried that I won’t be able to… to let go of my training. To dance in any other way. To do anything else.”

You wanted to reach out to him, but you were worried he would startle if you did. You laced your own fingers together and squeezed your hands around your knee.

“I can see the problems, but I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know how to move like you do. I don’t know how to do anything but what I’ve always done. I don’t know…” Suddenly he looked up at you, and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sheer emotion in his eyes. “I want to dance this with you. I want to partner with you. But I can’t seem to figure out how — not because of you. Because of me.”

You were reaching before you could stop yourself and lightly rested your hand on his forearm. He didn’t startle, but he did look down at it, brow furrowed. You forced yourself to leave it there and squeezed his arm lightly.

“Din, I…” you weren’t sure how to reassure him. You’d seen his discomfort in rehearsals and you knew this was new to him, even if he hadn’t told you so before. You decided to share your own worries instead, since he had just been so open with his own. “This is the biggest role I’ve ever gotten. I mean, you know I’ve got Hermia, and then the spring fairy in Cinderella… but I’ve never been chosen for something like this before. I’ve never had a chance like this.” He lifted his head and met your eyes again, and this time his eyes were soft. It encouraged you to continue. “And you’re so good, I’ve been so worried that I’m not…” you bit your lip and squeezed his arm again when he opened his mouth. You shook your head and he nodded, letting you continue. “That I’m not good enough. I’ve had bad reviews before and I’m not even a principal and I know there are people out there who think I’m not good enough to be one. I—”

This time, Din cut you off. “That’s absurd.” His tone was flat, like his point was so obvious he couldn’t believe he had to say it.

You blinked. “What?”

He tilted his head, his gaze dancing over your face. He covered your hand on his left arm with his right and squeezed. “Of course you deserve to be a principal. They should have already promoted you. Karga clearly wants to, anyway. You’re a beautiful dancer.”

Your mouth dropped open. “What?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in that barely-there smile and you felt your cheeks start to heat as his praise continued. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice me watching you. It wasn’t just for our homework. You’re… amazing. I don’t know how you put so much emotion into your dancing at the same time as so much such skill and technique. Like in Midsummer, everything you bring to Hermia, it’s…” His eyes scanned your face again, and you wondered if you were gaping at him. It felt like it. “It’s so real. And connected. I feel like a robot, compared to you. I’ve been trying to find that connection for myself, but…” he trailed off again and let his hand slip from where it covered your own. You took your hand back, too.

A connection, he said. “Um, thank you. Maybe…” you started, hesitant. He looked at you again. “Maybe we can help each other. Practice together, outside of our rehearsals.”

He nodded. You nodded back, and then you both laughed, a little. You’d never seen him laugh before and couldn’t help but stare.

You felt a bit shaky after all of that honesty and decided to lighten the air a little. “Ok, well, one thing we definitely need to do is get to know each other, right? So we’re comfortable together.” He nodded, and his expression was so open you had to force yourself to keep going, rather than to simply marvel at the fact that he’d dropped his mask. For you. “So. How about we each get 10 questions, but we can pass if we need to. Ok?”

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

You shrugged. “It’s a good way to get to know someone, especially when you have to dance with someone new.”

Din nodded. “Alright. You go first.”

Over the next half hour you learned that Din’s favorite color was black (“come on, really?” “Fine, my second favorite is green.”), he hated smart technology (“I don’t want my fridge to talk to me. I want it to be a fridge.”), and his favorite ballet he’d ever been in was, surprisingly, Giselle (“it’s not in the normal repertoire there, and they didn’t like how I danced it. But I did. It was the most free I’ve ever felt on stage.”).

You wanted to ask more about why he’d left CBC, but that felt like too much for your first real conversation. You did learn, though, that he had a son.

“Grogu,” he said, “that’s his name. He’s five. He loves watching ballet.” Din smiled a little, looking off into the distance. “I don’t know if he’ll want to dance, but at least he likes watching me do it.”

You smiled. He was more open when he talked about his son, who must have been the little boy you saw him with, back in December. “Sounds like he sits through it better than my family.”

Din laughed, and shook his head. “We’ll see if it changes as he gets older.”

“Is that why you’re always in such a hurry?”

He nodded. “My friend takes care of him during the day, but I hate leaving him for so long. She lives close by so I try to go home for lunch, on the weekends, or to pick him up from school.”

That made sense. A new understanding of Din was forming in your mind — not an avoidant, aloof principal dancer, but a father who wanted to spend time with his son as much as he wanted to dance. Someone with more on his mind than fitting into this new company — you imagined the move must have been difficult on Grogu, too.

“How’s he settling in here?”

Din looked at you, that little half smile back on his lips. “Just fine. He likes his new kindergarten, he’s made some friends. Better than I even hoped, really.”

You nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad he’s liking it. I bet that was a difficult transition for him. And you.”

Din sighed. “A bit. But it was necessary.”

Before you could even consider asking what he meant by that, you both heard commotion in the hall. You checked the time and realized you needed to get to your next rehearsal. Din stood first and offered you his hand.

You slid your hand into his, and he squeezed it as he pulled you up.

“This was a good idea,” he said, squeezing your hand again. “Do you think next week will go better?”

You nodded. “I think so. But do you want to meet beforehand, to talk about the choreography? Maybe figure out where we can find each other instead of missing each other.”

He nodded. “I’d like that.”

…

You felt lighter after your conversation with Din. You hadn’t solved the problem, of course, but you’d at least talked to each other. It felt like the air was clearer, now that you both knew the other was struggling in some way. Neither of you was alone in it.

Over the weekend you focused on Midsummer — it was a big deal for you, getting cast as Hermia. You were excited to dance through her turmoil. She was so torn, as a character, and you wanted to portray that on stage.

As you prepared and stretched on Friday night, you thought about what Din had said — that he couldn’t figure out how to dance in a new way, and that he felt like a robot. You shook your head. A robot? You weren’t sure what he was feeling while he danced, but Din never looked like a robot when he was performing. He’d said, too, that he loved being in Giselle, an overall more emotional performance than much of CBC’s usual repertoire. That he’d felt free.

You thought about his face, every time you’d seen behind the mask, and you knew he could do it. You just had to help him figure out how to find that connection again, and how to lower the mask more while he was performing.

As you stepped out on stage that night, you let that certainty ground you. As you performed your variation, you’d never felt more like you were floating.

...

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a/n: they talked!!! what do we think?

Pas de deux & partnering -- Partnering in ballet is hard! There has to be a lot of trust and communication between partners, even though you don't necessarily need to be like best friends. These two are so advanced and have been in companies for so long that they are able to jump into something like this, but they still have to establish a partnering relationship, which is tough! To give you an idea of just some of what goes into partnering, here's a video of "beginning tips" (skip to around ~12:00 for some interesting stuff on balance). Din is used to verrrrry formal partnering, and that is some of the reason for their communication issues.

Midsummer - reader is dancing the role of Hermia in A Midsummer's Night Dream, which can go to either a principal or a soloist, just depending on the company. Here's a nice overview of the two acts and the ballet from the San Francisco Ballet. Here's a video of a dancer breaking down the role. Here's a couple examples of Hermia's famous variation (solo): one, two. Hermia has other big moments in the ballet but I've mostly been mentioning reader prepping for the solo. Companies might also spread out the roles over different nights or weekends -- in this case reader has Hermia for one weekend, like Adrian has Puck for one weekend (which isn't really mentioned in the fic because I didn't think it was relevant). (Is it a little unbelievable that reader is so unsure about her possible promotion if she got this role? Maybe. Soloists could get this role, especially a first soloist!)

Spring fairy - reader is dancing the role of the spring fairy in Cinderella, too. This and Midsummer are big story ballets that would draw an audience. Here's another two performances of the spring fairy variation and all of the fairies in one video from a 2003 Royal Ballet production. Spring starts ~2:30. The wiki page has a nice overview of the numbers in each act, so you can see where the fairies come in. The wiki lists 4 acts, though, and most companies do it like ABT I think -- with 2 acts. And here's a full length recording.

Giselle - Din mentions this briefly and we'll learn more later, but here's an overview of the ballet. (it's one of my favs)

tag list coming in a reblog!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pas de deux fic #nbt fic #x reader #the mandalorian #ballet au

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604to647 · 22 hours ago

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Teehee!! The gif is the exact reaction I try to go for whenever I write fluff 🤭🤭 Thank you so so much for your kind words and continued support of the series - it means so much to me and I'm so glad you enjoyed it 🥹🥹

Safest with You (The Epilogue)

3.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din welcome a new member to your family.

Warnings: All fluff - just the way we started this series! Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Pretty bird, baby).

A/N: A cute little glimpse into the lives of our happy couple around two years after the series finale. 112 Carlota Galgos is a real Galgo rescue in Spain! I won't go into the circumstances that make the rescue work they do so important, but many of you know that I have a greyhound, and the plight of the Galgo is well known in the sighthound community. These dogs deserve the world!! If you have an opportunity to check out organizations that aid Spanish Galgos or even help - I promise these gentle giants deserve it. Lisette is a real galgo I knew! She passed last year and this epilogue is dedicated to her (cute pics included at the end!)

I’m posting this on the one year anniversary of Chapter 1!! I can’t believe it’s been a whole year of writing these bbs 🥹 Thank you thank you everyone who has supported and followed along with this series - you are all as dear to me as Pretty Bird's garlic knots are to Mayfeld 🥹🥰 (I still plan on publishing that recipe!)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always! 🥰 / Series Masterlist

Just before your finger is about to press down the call button on the outside of the closed metal gate, you retract your hand and look questioningly at Din.

“How many am I allowed to get again?”

Din stares at you for a second to ascertain if you’re kidding and when he sees you’re not, a little panic sets in on his face, “One, pretty bird. Just one.”

“But…”

“We only made arrangements with the airline for one, baby.”

You pout a little, but know Din’s right, “Okay. Fine. One.”

Somewhat dejectedly you press the button, though the chorus of barks and yelps from the other side of the gate resulting from the chime of the bell perk you up immediately, and by the time the gate is buzzed open with a loud brrrrzzzt, you’re giddy with excitement again.

This is the last planned destination of the European trip you and Din have been on for the last three weeks, both of you looking forward to flying home in just a few days.

The vacation has been an absolute dream. You and Din have eaten your way through Amsterdam (Stroopwafels! Bitterballen!), then Paris (Steak frites! Macarons! Croissants! One, sometimes two baguettes a day!), followed by Rome (Gelato! Pasta until you exploded!), and then finally Barcelona (Paella! Bombas!) before ending up where you are now: Andalucia, Spain, outside the gates of the 112 Carlota Galgos dog rescue.

The happy and excited woofs from the still unseen pups remind you so much of Alfredo. Gosh, you miss your best guy so much – although, if the daily photos and videos you’ve been receiving are to be believed, he might be hard pressed to leave Paz’s when you get back. By now a minor celebrity in Din and Paz’s neighbourhood, you’re happy to see that Al’s been making the rounds at the local shops (and accepting generous samples everywhere he goes), enjoying fun road trips to nearby hiking trails, and most importantly, helping Paz cement his image as an attractive, eligible bachelor about town. You’re sure if you were to peek at Paz’s dating app profile, you’d see it updated with copious pictures of him fawning over your dog.

Originally, you had been hesitant to have Paz take Al to his place for three whole weeks, wondering if it was better if instead, Paz could come and dog-sit at your and Din’s place – but Al does seem to be adjusting to being away from home just fine. Though Alfredo is generally super easy going and adaptable, you nevertheless recognized that it had been quite a year of transition and multiple upheavals for your pup and worried about how he might cope with yet another change in scenery.

Nearly a year ago, you and Din moved in together and Al had been uprooted from the only home he’s ever known. Though it wasn’t without some understandable disinclination that you left your beautiful and much-loved apartment, both of you agreed it made perfect sense for you to move into Din’s place above Mando’s. Of course you loved your old place – you had poured so much of your heart and soul into making it your refuge and the perfect home for you and Al, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to regret leaving – Din is your home now, as you are his. The only safe haven you need is the one with him, and though you’re sure he would have moved without hesitation if you had asked, the idea of Din leaving a residence right above his place of work, in a building he already owned, was too silly to even entertain.

To try and make the adjustment as smooth as possible for his pretty bird, Din had given you free reign to redecorate, bring in your furniture, and make whatever changes you wanted in order to make his, now your, apartment feel more like home. The third floor of Mando’s would always hold his most cherished memories of his childhood and father – he didn’t need it to look a certain way or have it maintained as some kind of physical shrine in order for that to be true; Din was ready to make a home and new memories with you. It was sweet and you appreciated the gesture prodigiously, but aside from adding your own bookshelves and swapping out a couch, the only thing you had asked for was a bigger kitchen. Din had readily agreed and even suggested he build you an expanded closet and turn the second bedroom into a home office-dog den for you and Al. Din’s enthusiasm and eagerness for the project was enough to have you agreeing to his considerate suggestions.

What had followed was seven months of renovation chaos, living out of and tripping over boxes as a slew of tradespeople and workmen paraded in and out of what was supposed to be your new sanctuary.

You love Din with all your heart, and one of the things you love most and find endlessly attractive is just how good he is at the things he does: taking care of you and Al, supporting the community, running Mando’s – to say nothing of the skill and prowess he displays in his work in and out of the ring; just the sight of Din running drills with his boxers or deftly commanding the Mandos gets you weak in the knees.

But elaborate home improvements and remodelling? Unfortunately, not part of Din’s impressive skill set. Nor any of the Mandos for that matter. For two weeks, every Mando on payroll seemed to be over at your place “helping” with measurements and the demolition of the kitchen and the wall between the two bedrooms. Only after a burst pipe and the subsequent three weeks of living with drying fans running 24/7, did Din concede it was time to call in professionals. Then came a parade of contractors and their respective plumbers, cabinet guys, drywall, tile and marble contacts, electricians, etc. – who all seemed to owe some kind of “favour” to Boba. The good thing about that was they were committed to doing a good job; the bad thing was that no one was particularly dedicated to doing a fast job. For the next five months, you, Din and Al lived in a construction zone of various partially started and finished projects with different strangers coming in and out of your place at all hours of the day – it had stressed Al out endlessly.

A little over half a year after moving in with Din, you hit a breaking point and, with Din’s encouragement, packed a suitcase and took Al to stay at Bea’s until a firm completion deadline could be negotiated with the various contractors. Din had insisted on staying behind to lead the "negotiations" and "supervise" the follow through; lo and behold, everything had been completed to perfection and cleaned up thoroughly two weeks after. Upon seeing the beautiful finished space, you finally felt at home – though frustrated, you hadn’t ever been terribly mad about the whole situation, but it had been a very confusing time for your pup.

Din had felt awful – this wasn’t the symbolic big step and storybook start to your lives together that he had envisioned. You either, if you were being honest, but it genuinely mattered very little in the grand scheme of things; you reminded Din, as the two of you christened every surface of your brand new kitchen, that your lives together had really started a year before moving in together, when he had taken his own big step and shown up outside of your office, making you the promise to be open and honest about everything.

And he had. Din had forgiven himself and won you back, and these last two years have been the happiest of your lives, even with the renovations.

In that time a lot’s happened. Jimmy won another two division championships and moved up a weight class. Cass announced that her and Rikard were expecting. Rory’s bridal boutique expanded to a second even more successful location and to her chagrin, she was promoted to manager. The second book in Bea’s series came out to amazing reviews and the anticipation and hype for the third (due out later this year) was through the roof. Poe decided to pursue and then successfully obtained his pilot license. You went up in his Cessna just once – the views had been unforgettable, Lisa getting sick in your lap no lesser so. Katie guest starred on Law and Order – twice (two different characters). You met the Mods. And Al finally settled into his new home, overseeing his new kingdom from the plush and cozy dog den that his dad lovingly built for him.

And now you and Din are about to take another big step together.

Greeted enthusiastically by one of the women who runs the Spanish hunting dog haven with whom you’ve been conversing with over the past few months about adoption, you and Din take a tour of the facility before being led out back to meet the dogs.

Per Elenna’s guidance, you sit in a chair near the water bowls and let the galgos come to you on their own terms. Some, understandably, are shy and timid, wary of strangers – tentatively, they come and investigate you with their snoots, eventually accepting your gentle pats and scritches once they feel comfortable enough. Others have no such hesitation - tails wagging, curious and excited, they enthusiastically crowd you, nosing in for pets and try to sniff out the treats you have in your pocket. Your chest expands, heart nearly tripling in size to see these dogs get to be dogs again, as you rub their little faces and coo endless words of deserved praise at them for their bravery.

Maybe the plane will have room for another crate, you think, or two? You can’t stop giggling as your face is licked and poked with wet noses, or when those same noses goose your tummy and legs, competing for the attention of your busy hands – you’re in heaven, nearly overwhelmed by all this furry cuteness. Surely Din cannot possibly expect you to limit yourself to one! Knowing the marshmallow squish that resides beneath his hard and steely frame, you’re willing to bet that Din has already softened his stance on taking home multiple pups. You crane your neck to see over the dogs, looking around the property to see if you can locate your boyfriend.

To your surprise, you find him not being surrounded by enthusiastic, bounding galgos, but alone - crouching near the ground and gently scratching a smaller fawn coloured dog who’s laying on her side, her slender head lifted just slightly off the ground to lean into Din’s hand.

“That’s Lisette,” Elenna says when she notices you looking at Din and the fawn girl, “she’s just come to us after this last hunting season - we found her in the street with a broken leg. She’s all healed up now but is still quite skittish, especially around men. This is actually the first time I’ve ever seen her let a man touch her, never mind a stranger. Your husband must have a very calming touch.”

“Oh, he’s not my husb-” your voice trails off as you watch Lisette continue to happily receive Din’s attention. Walking over, you hear him speaking quietly to her in Spanish.

“What are you telling her, Din?”

Din looks up, eyes soft and shiny, “Just telling her what a good girl she is. That’s she so brave and sweet. And that she doesn’t have anything to be afraid of anymore. She’s safe now.”

There is no question as to which (one) dog you’ll be adopting today.

Lisette settles in quickly when you and Din get her back home, especially with Al immediately taking up his role as big brother. Lisette falls into the easy comfort of following his lead, regularly looking to Alfredo for guidance – he never leads her astray and the two of them become inseparable. With growing pride, you watch Lisette tentatively explore her new environment and slowly over the next few months, becomes more and more comfortable in her forever home: first your and Din’s apartment, then the gym, whose enthusiastic occupants always greet her like the princess she is, and eventually the entire neighbourhood where she’s never without her protective brother by her side. When she’s ready, you and Din take her and Al out on further away adventures: to your and Din’s favourite farmers’ market, Poe and Lisa’s (where you learn in their pool that Lisette can swim!) or to Boba and Fennec’s where she can run and play with Mochi and the other Daimyo Dogs. Your heart positively kvells as Lisette’s confidence grows and she becomes the happy pup she deserves to be, putting her less than ideal start to life behind her.

The only thing you wish you could change, though you would never push, is that Lisette won’t cuddle with you - she only ever cuddles with Din. You know she loves you, but she’s very much a daddy’s girl and he’s the only one with whom she feels safe enough to have in such close proximity while sleeping or relaxing. You don’t begrudge Lisette at all for feeling this way; Din is her protector, she trusts him to keep her safe - you understand the comfort of that feeling better than anyone.

And in truth, you love watching them together – seeing your sweet girl so at ease and your strong, formidable warrior melt into a puddle of goo when she burrows into the warmth of his lap. Din talks to Lisette in Spanish all the time, repeating what he told her back in Andalucia: she’s safe now, she doesn’t have to be scared anymore - this is her home.

Your home feels complete now – there’s nowhere you would rather be than cuddled up on the couch with Din, each respectively loving on the pups that have curled up against you: you, Al and Din, Lisette.

Then one day, you’re on the couch tapping away on your laptop when Lisette saunters up to you. You rub her little head and give her a little smooch on her snoot as she walks by, fully expecting her to wander away but she surprises you to no end when she hops up on the couch and curls up by your feet. Terribly delighted but not wanting to spook her, you pretend like it’s no big deal – your heart, however, is doing jumping jacks; looking up with a big smile you see Din nodding encouragingly at the both of you.

And then she does it again. And again. At first still staying arms length from you, she inches closer and closer, little by little. Though your chest is exploding and you want to shout with joy, you always remain calm and give Lisette copious amounts of quiet praise after she’s settled. To celebrate this progress, Din will eventually come over to shower Lisette with additional treats and Spanish words of adulation that she happily accepts. Sometimes you even catch him encouraging her before she comes over to you or see her looking back at him for reassurance before she climbs onto the bed or couch to sit with you. Always her protector, her safe space.

It's slow going, but worth it.

Today, you’re on the couch having just finished a book, funnily enough it’s the most recent in the fantasy series that Din had bought you and your friends on that first day you met nearly four years ago, when you see Lisette moseying on over to you. You swing your legs off the couch and pat the spot next to you, and to your delight, she hops up and starts to do her little nesting circles, prepping for her laydown spot. When she finally settles, she lays her little head in your lap and you think your heart might burst. You look up and see Din, handsome and relaxed, leaning against one of the bookshelves looking at the both of you with an adoring expression on his face. You beam back - yep, the two of you are his girls. The ones he takes care of. Looks after. Loves.

Lisette nuzzles her furry little face deeper into your thigh and you can’t help but giggle at the sensation. “Okay, okay,” you chuckle, as if you needed any invitation to pet and love on her. Dispensing gentle scritches all over her head and little ear rubs, you notice that your sweet girl has an extra collar on. Normally Lisette wears just a martingale and sometimes nothing at all when she’s at home, but today, she’s got a thin rope collar encircling her neck as well. Rubbing it between your fingers, you say to Din, “This is pretty! When did she get this house collar?”

“Got it for her a while ago, but thought I’d wait for the right moment to put it on. Do you like it?”

Lisette lifts her head and you take the opportunity to take a closer look at the pretty pink collar; admiring the delicate metalware and the luxurious feeling fibres of the rope, you run your fingers over the collar until you get to the small clasp in the front and feel something you don’t expect. Rotating the collar around Lisette’s slender neck so you can get a better look at the thin object, you gasp when it comes into view.

A diamond ring.

Din, with Al by his side, starts to walk towards you, the look in his eyes clear and so easy to read: Devotion. Adoration. Love.

“Pretty bird…” he starts. Din has an entire speech planned.�� He needs to thank you for coming into his life and showing him what true strength and power is. Grace, honesty, and compassion have been your gifts to him, and he’s a better man, a stronger man, for your kindness and generosity. He wants to promise you that your faith in him will never be misplace – that he will cherish you and your heart to the very last beat of his own and beyond. He loves you, admires you, trusts you, is in awe of you, and remains forever grateful for you. Grateful for every smile you throw his way, every laugh you pull from him and allow him to draw from you, thankful for all the ways you’ve woven yourself into his life and made it better. And above all, grateful for your acceptance and love for him and all that he is, was, and ever will be. He needs to ask you if you will allow him the honour of spending the remainder of his days showing you his gratitude and loving you the way you deserve.

Din’s heart is overflowing and he has so much he wishes to express; he’s not entirely sure he’s going to be able to make any sense. But Din’s not nervous - the radiant smile on your beautiful face as he approaches already telling him everything he needs to know.

Real life Lisette!! 🥰🥰

Very last tag for this series!! Thank you all forever for your support 🥹😘

@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro

@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20

@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief

@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414

@rarachelchel @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @jeewrites @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe

@bebsjo @yopossum @cartonkid1200 @rav3n-pascal22 @sjc7542

@xxx-silhouette-xxx @pedroswife69 @kilamonster @mandoshoney @joelalorian

@syd-djarin @moonlessnight14 @lucienofthelakes

#comment reblog #thank you for reading #modern!din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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pentechnics · 2 days ago

Text

A Little Leap

Chapter 9 of Latch

Summary: The long-awaited night is here, and both you and Din struggle with casting your cautions aside. Will it hinder your time together?

Pairing: Firefighter!Din Djarin x f!Reader

Series Masterlist

Notes: Very long awaited, but hopefully worth it. And not even a power outage could stop me from getting it out today! Poured a lot of love into this one and I'm so excited to see what you all think of it! Sending you all so much love and well-wishes!!

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~~~~

A few days later, Din was stepping back into Lando’s shop and greeting him with a handshake. Lando led him to the back where a rack of black garment bags hung, plucking out two and handing them to him. “Here we are, all set for you.”

“Two?” Din pointed to the second bag. “I only bought one.”

“Luke had me make up another for you. He noticed you liked the brown one, too.”

Lando winked and pressed them into Din’s hands. Din glanced between him and the suits, unsure of what to say. How did Luke do that without him noticing?

“... Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Lando nodded and waved as Din made his way out of the boutique.

Din hung the garments in the back seat of the car and clambered inside with a huff. During the drive back he rehearsed what he’d say to Luke upon his return – why’d you do that? How’d you do that? What the hell, you didn’t have to do that.

Din sighed. That kid was too giving for his own good.

He tried to keep an air of authority as he stepped through the front door and dramatically held out his two garment bags. He threw a stern glare at a gleeful Luke, who was sitting on the couch, not affected by Din in the slightest.

“... I don’t pay you enough to be doing things like this.”

Luke just laughed. Din gulped down his annoyance, standing up straighter in an attempt to keep up his angry demeanor.

“Relax, it’s a gift! It’ll come in handy.”

“Luke,” Din warned.

“Mr. Djarin, I promise, that is the last sort of intervention I plan to do.” He lifted his palm into the air. “You have my word.”

Din gave him a solid nod and made his way to the bedroom.

“It better be.”

~~~~~

“Your nerves are understandable. Is there any specific thing you’re worried about?”

You shifted in your seat before returning Dr. Jinn’s gaze. Each little thing seemed to pile together: some rational, some very much not. And more came with each passing day. What if he stood you up? What if you said something stupid? What if you spill your drink all over him?

“I just… I’m not sure what to expect. I’m not a big date person, I haven’t been on very many good ones in the past.”

“Ah, so because you really like him, you’re extra worried about it not going well?”

A bullseye, as usual. But damn, did he have to say it so bluntly each time? You nodded.

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Let me ask you this,” he tapped his pen against his knee as he spoke. “Do you think you were the reason those other dates were bad?”

You thought about it. One person made offensive jokes. Another turned out to be cheating on someone with you. One stared at the waiter’s ass the whole time. You winced at the memories.

“I guess most of them were out of my control.”

He gave a slight grin.

“Then I think it’s safe to say you won’t screw anything up.”

“… But what if he does?”

He paused, taking in your expression before asking, “What do you think is the worst thing that could happen during this date?”

A bead of anxiety led to sadness, shame, and anger. It wouldn’t be the total end of the world, but it would hurt as if it was.

“... Him not showing up. Or changing his mind.”

“Okay. Solid concern. Now tell me this: when you think about him, what are the biggest traits that stand out to you?”

Flashes of his face and of conversations the two of you shared ran through your mind. Those kind eyes and warm smile took over your senses, sending a pleasant tingle down your spine.

“... He’s kind,” you began, “and smart.”

Grogu entered your mind’s eye.

“...And he seems really loyal to the people in his life.”

“Seems like a great guy.”

You smiled and nodded.

“So, you’ll just have to take a little leap. Trust that he’ll come through.”

You stared at your lap. He was right. But just how were you meant to do that?

“Is that something I can learn to do in two days?” you asked with a dry laugh.

Dr. Jinn shrugged.

“Personally, I don’t think it’s something anyone is ever done learning. But we all have to start somewhere.”

~~~~

Din straightened his collar in the mirror, letting out a huff that made the tip of his hair bounce up.

He took in the sight of the grey suit in the mirror, hoping to summon that same magical feeling he got wearing it for the first time in Lando’s boutique. He turned around to face Grogu’s crib.

“What do you think, kid?”

Grogu smiled up at him from his standing perch, patting the edge of the crib with his hand. Din chuckled and went over to lift him out and carry him into the living room.

“Luke will be here any minute. You better be good to him, okay?”

Grogu laid his head down onto Din’s shoulder in response, wrapping his arms around him as much as they’d allow.

Din stopped in his tracks. Little waves of warmth and love flowed through him; he held Grogu close and basked in it.

Something seemed odd – typically, Grogu would cling like this and whimper when he wanted support. Then Din would’ve doubled down and stay home for him.

But this seemed different. Grogu was silent, save for a few gentle, happy coos. It was as though Grogu was trying to tell him something else. To ease his worries. It had Din swallowing a sudden lump in his throat.

This was hard. Leaving him was always hard. But as Din ran his hands through Grogu’s little curls, the prickly, heavy anxiety began to slowly loosen its grip.

He gave Grogu a kiss on the cheek just as Luke knocked on the door.

Deep breath. It’s now or never.

“All right, buddy, wish me luck.”

Grogu giggled and tapped his hand against Din’s chin, making him chuckle.

During the drive, Din couldn’t help the way his muscles seized. Every alarm bell in his system was ringing – not the way they usually did when he was away from Grogu, but something insistent and foreign. Good signs or bad, he couldn’t tell.

The evening sent a chill through his half-open window. The sky poked through the high-rises, its colorful clarity a direct contrast to the electric storm brewing inside him.

His mind was jumping from place to place – anxious, guilty, excited – they all melded together and created a dizzying new emotion he wasn’t sure how to name. Din was no stranger to running into a situation he wasn’t familiar with, but something about this seemed so much more fragile. It had more variables than he was used to. Larger margin for error, and less room for it. He resisted the urge to hit his head against the steering wheel to get his brain to shut up.

When he parked in front of your building and stepped out onto the curb, he forced himself to take a breath. One feeling at a time, one worry at a time.

Grogu’s okay. Focus on her.

It’ll be good. She’ll be happy to see you.

You look fine. Stop thinking about your stomach.

The voice speaking to him was collected and confident next to his racing heart. He chanted the words over and over again in his head, breathing in time with them until he could muster up the nerve to pull out his phone. He glanced at the clock – per Luke’s instructions, he had arrived ten minutes early.

Won’t she feel rushed, though? He’d asked. What if she needs more time?

Trust me, Luke had said. You’re the one who’s going to need it.

Damn that boy. Why was he always right? Din allowed himself a few more minutes of nervous pacing and obsessive jacket-pulling before opening up his messages.

~~~~

You sat in front of your mirror, making your final preparations before Din was due to arrive. Dress was on, accessories were added, and now it was time to wait. Your phone sat on the bathroom counter, taunting you. He’d be texting you any second now.

You were putting essentials into your little wristlet purse. Your hands were shaking, each little item struggling to get into the opening.

A thousand pep talks and reminders to breathe from Harley couldn’t even scratch the surface of your brain without interference. It was like you were shut off from your fear sector, unable to soothe it even if you wanted to. You stared at their messages of encouragement blankly before shutting your eyes and heaving a deep sigh.

Even though he really didn’t seem like the type, you couldn’t shake your fears of Din running away. Deciding he didn’t want to do this, that he didn’t want to see you. It took everything you had to not cancel first and beat him to the punch. And yet every time you snuffed the temptation, part of you wondered if you’d regret it later.

‘You’ll just have to trust him a little.’

As if on cue, Dr. Jinn’s voice rang through your mind like a bell. A soothing chime that cut through all of the abrasive, self-destructive noise. It reminded you of what you were meant to be trying. The clog inside you was pushing to be cleared – you just needed to help it along.

You rose from your spot and wandered into the living room, phone now cradled in your hand. The evening was settling in and basking its iridescent glow upon the city, the buildings surrounding your apartment cloaked in its blues, purples, and pinks. You thought about Din, about the memories you’ve already made together. His smile, his laugh…

… His baby.

You clutched your phone in your fist as another wave of anxiety pulsed through you. What would you do if you messed this up? The mental image of Grogu’s smiling face had your heart singing – what if you never got to see him again?

But then again, when did this date become the make-it-or-break-it of this whole thing?

It’s not as though this would be the first time you and Din sat together and talked. You’d done that several times at Cal’s. You had no reason to believe this wouldn’t be just like that, right? Calming, fun, and easy. You let out a slow breath, shoulders drooping down with it.

Yeah, that’s all this is, you told yourself. Just another fun meet-up across the counter.

Your phone buzzed.

With a jolt, tension returned to your muscles as you looked at the screen. He was here.

It was time.

Shit.

You texted back with frantic fingers, running to grab the last of your things and put on your shoes before heading out the door – but not before taking one last glance out the window.

The calm of dusk, an everlasting being of promise and beauty. The dull quiet in your apartment, a guaranteed comfort when you returned, regardless of what happened.

Certainties you could hold onto in a world of unknowns.

You pushed yourself out the door.

~~~~

You focused on each breath as the elevator made its painfully slow descent. You patted your dress, your head, your purse, anything that could possibly fall out of place between now and the lobby.

Part of you began to wonder where he’d be taking you. Him taking the reins on those details was a welcomed surprise; you couldn’t help feeling pampered by the prospect of not having to make that decision.

A smile tugged on your cheeks as the elevator signaled your arrival to the lobby. You sucked in one more breath and squeezed your bag. Here goes nothing.

You walked out and made it a whole five steps before almost tripping over your feet.

He was a vision: standing outside beside his car, leaning against the passenger side. Hands in his pockets. Gaze turned to the side. His suit was perfectly tailored to him, outlining his broad shoulders and full hips. Those arms that could rip his uniform into shreds were less of a threat to the suit jacket, though still made their presence known. The stubble on his face was short but visible, and it gave his jawline even more of a sharp edge. He turned and gave a small grin at the sight of you.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and regained your footing.

“Hi,” you greeted as you stepped out the door. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

“Not at all,” he said, hands slowly making their way out of his pockets. “You look… “

He trailed off for a moment, glancing down at your dress before meeting your eyes again.

“... Amazing.”

You swallowed again, the heat in your face making it harder to breathe.

“So do you.”

You couldn’t help stealing another glance at that marvelous suit, subconsciously biting your lips together in hopes of keeping your cool.

“Thank you.”

You returned his gaze upon hearing his voice, letting yourself get lost in them. Any semblance of nerves that had just been assaulting you were long gone, like you’d been in a crowded room, and he was the one to walk in and make every voice fall silent.

Who could blame them? He left you speechless, too.

After a moment he cleared his throat and opened the car door for you.

“Shall we, then?”

You smiled at the gesture and climbed in, your heart already aflutter. Who knew people still opened car doors for each other?

You watched him walk around and get into the driver’s seat, phone in hand.

“I’m a little embarrassed at having to use the GPS to get there,” he said with a chuckle.

“Don’t be!” You laughed. “Everyone needs the help sometimes.”

He glanced up at you before resuming his search, a small dust of color brimming on his ears.

Once the GPS began to speak, he pulled onto the road.

“I don’t recognize the name of the restaurant,” you commented, rubbing your thumb along the back of your opposite hand. “Have you ever been?”

“No, actually. I don’t go out very much.”

“Me, either,” you nodded.

“New for us both. That’ll be nice.”

He pulled up to a stoplight and turned away from the road to look at you.

“Yeah, that will be nice.” You said with a smile.

An unspoken feeling passed through you: uncharted, exciting, deep. By the way Din looked at you, you’d swear he was feeling the same thing. His eyes seemed to be speaking for him again – a language you were so desperate to learn. Yet at the same time, it felt as though the message was crystal clear.

The light turned green, but the spell didn’t break. Somehow, without even having to look at you, those eyes were still relaying their words. The comfortable silence between you was so loud with them that it was almost too much to bear.

Din ended up driving you to a separate sector of downtown from where Cal’s and the Mark were located. A spring of joy lit up inside you; this was an area you never got to explore.

When Din pulled into a parking spot, he rushed to undo his seat belt.

“Hang on.”

You halted your hands from reaching for the door handle and instead watched him jog over to open it again for you. A wide smile sprouted on your face. What a precious gentleman.

You glanced at the hand he held out for you before placing yours in it. Just as it had the last time, back in Cal’s, electricity shot through you. There was a slight jolt in his grip before he pulled you to your feet, giving your hand the slightest squeeze before letting it go.

You instantly missed his warmth.

He pointed the way after locking the car and the two of you walked side by side. You held tight to your bag, still unsure of what physical boundaries should be kept. You glanced at his hand, dangling along his side. It swayed with his movements.

How nice would it be if it just stayed wrapped around yours?

Upon approaching the restaurant, he opened that door for you as well, making you giggle.

“Will you be opening all my doors tonight?”

“... Is that okay?”

The concern that clouded his eyes made you wish you hadn’t said a word. You smiled and held out a hand towards him.

“Of course, yes! I’m just not used to it is all.”

You paused and looked at your feet, nerves threatening to keep the next words from escaping your mouth.

“It makes me feel really special.”

He let out a breath. You watched the tension dissipate from his shoulders and a calmness come over his expression.

“I’m glad.”

He turned from you and greeted the approaching waiter.

You took the moment look around. The restaurant was quaint and elegant, warm yellow lighting reflecting off the maroon walls. Wide open dining areas and a dancing area down a farther hallway. Shimmering chandeliers dangled from above and reflected constellations off themselves.

It was gorgeous.

When the waiter grabbed two menus, you began to prepare yourself. Your heart was pounding deep and loud – a boisterous show of its limits.

And the evening had only just begun.

~~~~

Light chatter surrounded you both as you sat at the intimate little table for two, waiting for your orders. The candle sitting between you made Din glow; specks of yellow danced across his face, making his eyes shimmer. He was looking out the window, his side profile made ever sharper by the contrasting shadows.

“It looks so other-worldly outside,” he said, “... does that sound weird?”

His voice snapped you out of your trance.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head.

You took a glance out the window, taking in the pale city lights as they twinkled against the dark backdrop of the encroaching night. As cars drove past, the headlights would briefly splatter the surrounding surfaces. It was like several little light shows just for the two of you.

“I see what you mean. It’s kind of magical.”

He turned to you and grinned. His eyes betrayed a hint of embarrassment.

The waiter came by and set your food before you both. Din cleared his throat and glanced about the room until they walked away.

The smell immediately graced your nose, making you breathe in a deep dose of it. Your stomach grumbled its approval just before you both began eating. You were grateful for the food – it gave you something to do when you couldn’t think of what to say.

Clinking silverware and padded footsteps of passing waiters filled the air. You glanced up at Din between bites – he would either be pecking at his food or glancing out the window, seemingly wringing his hands together.

Good to know he was also nervous, though it left you unsure of how to break the tension. You took another bite and thought back to the pep-talk you gave yourself.

Just another chat across the counter.

You took a sip of your water and set down your cutlery.

“How’s Grogu doing?”

His eyes darted to you, expression a little lost.

“Oh- he’s… good.”

“No more fevers, I hope.”

That got him to smile a bit.

“No, he’s okay. He’s actually been really active lately.”

“Yeah?” Tell me more.”

He did. And as he spoke, his demeanor shifted. The weight left his shoulders, the buzzing air calming. You could swear you were actually at Cal’s, and he was sitting at the counter. You couldn’t help smiling – at both his and Grogu’s cuteness.

Conversation flowed much more easily after that, the evening drifting along with it. He made you laugh, you made him blush, and everything in the world made sense.

Before either of you knew it, the waiter had left the check on the table and at least a solid two hours had passed. Din didn’t even entertain the notion when you lifted your little purse to help pay, giving you a good laugh and another flutter of the heart.

The two of you walked out into the night soon after, you nursing leftovers in your hand. The walk to the car was slow and peaceful, the breeze a relief on your beaming cheeks. When you reached the car, you stopped Din with a hand on his forearm before he could open the door.

“Hey-” you looked up at him. “Do you want to…”

You gulped. You didn’t want the night to end just yet. But what would happen if he said no? Just imagining the awkwardness made you want to run away. He glanced down at your hand before meeting your eyes again.

“... walk around a bit?” he finished for you.

You nodded with a smile, hoping the utter mental pain you were enduring wasn’t visible in your expression. He straightened up and took your to-go box out of your hands.

“That sounds nice. Let’s drop this off, then.”

The relief was so sweet yet drastic. You sighed with a small laugh and gave his forearm a little squeeze.

~~~~

The walk reminded you of that spontaneous arcade day the two of you shared, yet this was somehow even sweeter.

The night was rich with energy. Light spilled onto the sidewalks from the little shops that lined the streets, a slight breeze whisking around you, and a healthy flow of words still running between you. Din’s voice grew just a bit more animated than it had been at the start of the night, and you reveled in the soothing sound of it.

One shop caught your eye: a little ice cream parlor, painted in creamy pastels and boasting a host of flavors, with indoor decor that was reminiscent of a vintage diner. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking in the sugary vanilla scent. You turned to Din with a grin.

“Do you want some dessert?”

He stared at you with wide eyes and hesitated. A beat passed before he gulped and tore his gaze from you to look at the list of flavors outside the door.

“Sure—yeah, let’s do it.”

You insisted on paying once flavors had been selected, mirroring what he had done in the restaurant.

It took him all but five minutes to finish his. You weren’t even at your cone yet.

You looked between your hand holding your ice cream and his empty one crumpling a napkin across the little circular table. Gesturing between them, you gave him a puzzled look.

“How?”

He just shrugged with a chuckle. You shook your head and continued to dive into your cone.

“Oh, hey- you’ve got something right there…”

He gestured to the side of his lip. Fighting off the embarrassment, you tried to wipe it off with your hand.

“Did I get it?”

He shook his head. You tried again. Whatever it was continued to elude you, leading Din to reach for a new napkin.

“May I?”

You laughed at your own helplessness and scooched your chair closer to him.

He met you halfway and wiped at the edge of your mouth. Even through the layers between you, his fingers burned into your skin. You couldn’t help staring at the concentrated expression he held, your muscles freezing up under his touch. He drew closer and continued on his mission to clear off the ice cream, though the napkin just felt dry against your skin. His thumb darted out to caress your cheek, and you gasped at the touch.

He had to stop teasing you like that. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself otherwise.

His gaze slowly made its way up from your lips until it met yours, his eyes giving you that familiar sensation of being effortlessly dissected.

How do his eyes do that, you wondered.

“… How do you do that?”

You may not have meant to voice your thoughts, but no regret followed.

“Do what?”

“it’s just that- I don’t know, every time you look at me, it’s like you’re staring into my soul.”

He let out a soft laugh.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you quickly added, “I’ve just never experienced it before.”

He leaned back the slightest bit, his hand falling from your face.

“You do something similar, you know. It’s like there’s…”

He leaned in again and squinted a bit, peering even deeper. You jumped a bit in your seat, the sudden proximity sending a jolt through your veins.

“… I can’t quite explain it, but they’re pretty incredible.”

His voice was soft and quiet, as if speaking too loudly would break the moment.

You melted into his gaze, losing yourself chasing the shining stars that made up its inner galaxy. A deep warmth ran through you, and you couldn’t help smiling. He returned the expression, his eyes crinkling.

You could look at that face all night.

The rest of your ice cream sat abandoned in your hand, the slight sensation of it dripping onto your hand the only indication that anything else still existed.

“Oh-”

Din bounced back into action to clean you up, leaving you to careen back to Earth’s surface. The chatter of other customers, the faint music in the background, it all came rushing back too fast.

“Better get a jump on this if you don’t want to end up doused in ice cream soup,” he said with that beautiful grin.

It was hopeless. Hardly anything had happened, and yet… You were trapped in his orbit.

~~~~

Your throat was so sore by the time Din was driving you home, hours having passed by without you. You were certain you’d never talked to someone for so long before.

The fatigue was showing on his face as well, in the form of tired eyes and deeper sighs.

“I’m sorry to have kept you out so late,” you said.

“Oh, please, don’t be.” He stole a glance before returning his attention to the road. “I had a great time with you.”

Like a blanket straight from the dryer, you were wrapped in that sweet feeling again.

“Likewise.”

He smiled with his teeth for the briefest of moments.

Moments later he was pulling the car into park in front of your building and popping out to open your door one more time for the night.

You looked up to see him staring at the ground with his hand outstretched, that adorable red tint decorating his ears. You smiled and let him pull you out of the car, but this time he didn’t step away.

Your heartbeat quickened without your permission, sending a flurry of butterflies through your gut. You were craning your neck the slightest bit, eager to take in his features from this close up, despite the growing clamminess in your hands.

His gaze was slower to meet yours; he took his time examining you, starting from your shoes and working his way up. When he did catch your eyes, something in his stance deflated. And his smile once again took all the remaining breath from your lungs.

“I meant it,” he all but whispered, “I… had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too,” your voice came out quieter than intended, matching his. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

“I’d like that.”

He gave your hand a squeeze.

“I’d like that a lot.”

Your smile was hurting your cheeks, but the pain was barely registering. The crisp night air whisked around you both, as if sweeping away everything else until all you could focus on was Din.

He took up your entire field of vision, your every sensation, each breath you tried to take.

You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You placed your free hand on his shoulder, giving yourself enough leverage to pull him towards you and plant a kiss on his cheek.

Your entire body was heating up, your lips tingling. His skin was so soft, the slight scratch of his stubble a pleasant sensation.

His eyes betrayed surprise, blinking a few times before regaining their focus. He gulped and looked back down to the ground between you both, the red tint stretching to his cheeks.

God, he was so cute.

A big gust of wind broke the moment, making you shiver. His face immediately shifted to concern.

“Oh, are you cold?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Just a bit. I guess that’s my cue.”

You gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go and retrieving your leftovers from the car.

He closed the car door when you stepped away, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

“Good night, Din. Thank you for everything.”

He smiled at you, giving a small nod in your direction.

“Good night.”

One last look at him before you forced your feet to start moving. Every instinct in you tried to pull you back to him, but you had to press on.

The heated building began to thaw you out, but it was nothing compared to him. You didn’t stop until you got to the elevator, the curb thankfully out of view to keep you from running right back outside.

Every moment, every feeling, it all came crashing down on you all at once. Right there inside the moving metal box. You had to lean against the wall to catch yourself.

What a night.

~~~~

Your apartment was dark. The city lights still penetrated through your windows, illuminating select areas and helping your brain adjust, but you were still left fumbling for the light switch.

Your movements were almost robotic as you toed off your shoes, put away your food, closed the curtains, and made your way to the bedroom. You plopped your purse down and stared at yourself in the mirror.

Okay, I’m wearing the dress, so none of that was a dream.

You changed into your nightwear and took a seat on the couch, blankly turning on the TV and letting the white noise fill the space.

Your mind was so overwhelmed with how much the two of you had spoken, yet it still didn’t feel like enough. By the end of it all, you still wished it didn’t have to end.

You brushed your fingers over your cheek, where the invisible indent of his hand still remained. Warm, strong, and soft – that’s how his hands felt. Just the memory of them had your skin tingling again.

Magic. It was the only word that could describe the night. Something about it all was just pure magic.

You sighed. You’d never been more eager to see someone again. To feel that enchanting bliss again. It seemed so foolish, yet you couldn’t help yourself. You lifted up your phone – it’d definitely be too much to message him now, no matter how much you wanted to. Some self-control had to be practiced.

You elected instead to put on Golden Girls, your muscles relaxing as the familiar score began to play. You reached over to your side table and pick up your most recent read: Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand. Funnily enough, the story involved a new love for the titular character.

But for the first time in a while, the pages went on without you. You made it through the first few pages before the train derailed. The words were there, your eyes moved over them, but you weren’t encoding a single one. Your mind’s eye projected those eyes, that suit, the gorgeous smile, all over the page.

You shook your head. Maybe if this chapter involved Jasmina rather than the discomforting country club group, it would apply more to your mind’s incessant stick to the topic of romance.

“Sorry, Major,” you whispered as you closed the book. “Even you can’t compete right now.”

The girls were chatting over cheesecake when you picked up your phone again, scrolling aimlessly until you decided the only way to calm yourself down enough to go to bed was to expel everything.

The phone only rang twice before Harley picked up, skipping every pleasantry and going right into the, “Tell me everything.”

~~~~

Luke turned to the next page in his book, readjusting in the chair as he did so.

The apartment had been quiet, blanketed in the yellow glow of Din’s floor lamp since Grogu fell asleep. The perfect backdrop to get engrossed in a book and forget where he was.

The one thing to break his trance was the gentle rustling of the front door. Luke looked up and checked his phone – the 11:55pm timestamp had him slightly recoiling in disbelief.

When Din walked through the door, Luke closed his book and gave him a smile.

“Welcome back,” he said, “How’d it go?”

Din shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it on the sofa. He plopped down, leaned on his knees, and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. When he sat back up, Luke noted the flush in his cheeks, the shine in his eyes, and couldn’t help grinning.

“That good, huh?”

Din shook his head.

“I don’t even know what happened. She’s… just incredible.”

Luke had never seen Din like this. Sure, he was quiet, but this was fully tongue-tied. A blissful tone was evident in his worn-out voice.

As quick as it came, though, it vanished. Din’s expression narrowed.

“Wait, how long has he been asleep?”

Ah. Dad mode was back.

“A few hours,” Luke said with a shrug. “It is almost midnight.”

Din straightened up.

“What? I was gone that long?”

“It’s okay, Mr. Djarin, he’s completely fine.”

“I’ve never missed bedtime on a day off. Are you sure he was okay?”

“Yes,” Luke said, moving to sit next to Din on the sofa. “I promise, he’s great. Besides, he goes to bed at eight. Even if you were home earlier, there’s no way you’d have been back that early.”

Din leaned back until he collided with the backrest, slightly shaking his head.

Luke internally sighed. Just when he thought the guilt would stay away…

He turned in his seat to face Din and got his attention with a hand to his shoulder.

“Mr. Djarin, listen to me. I want you to think about how you felt being out tonight. How you felt being on that date.”

Din eyed Luke before turning his gaze to his lap.

“You don’t have to say anything – just think.”

Din closed his eyes, his chest slowly inflating and deflating with deep breaths.

In the time he’d known Din, Luke had never seen him do anything for himself. Everything he ever did, he did for Grogu. It was hard to see him like this, almost punishing himself for the smallest deviation.

The best way out of this for now, Luke reasoned, was to reframe it in a way that included Grogu.

“Now, don’t you think Grogu would enjoy hearing about those feelings? Won’t it be nice to tell him all about this tomorrow?”

Din’s gaze rose back up to him.

“You’ll see for yourself, he’s going to love that you went out and did so much. He is going to love seeing you happy.”

Din gave a small nod, though there was still a hint of doubt in his expression. He sat up and let out a puff of air.

“Can I ask you something, Luke?”

Luke straightened up with a nod.

“Why are you helping me so much?”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“I mean, I don’t understand why you’ve gone out of your way to do so much for me. Especially with all this date stuff.”

What an innocent soul he was. Luke smiled and shrugged.

“Because I want to.”

“But… why?”

Din looked genuinely puzzled. On the one hand, it was endearing, but on the other, Luke couldn’t help wondering why it was so hard for him to accept that people would just want to help him.

“Believe it or not, Mr. Djarin,” he started, “spending this much time together has made us friends. Friends help each other. If I needed something, we both know you’d be there for me. It’s the same both ways.”

Din’s expression relaxed a bit. A small grin pulled at his lips.

“Well, friend, I’m sorry to have kept you here all night.”

The swell of warmth that came from hearing Din call him a friend was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Luke gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“No worries, pal. I’m really glad you had such a good night.”

Din gave him a wider smile.

“You were right about getting there early,” he chuckled, “I did need the extra time.”

Luke laughed.

He sat back and listened as Din relayed parts of the night, pride growing within him with every moment, every story, every little hint of bashfulness and glee on Din’s face.

A happy Din was quite the sight to behold.

****

Additional notes: Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson is one of my favorite books ever. Full stop. It's a beautiful, skillfully told story about an old man finding new meanings in life. The characters are so flushed out and amazing and they just tug at your heart. I am very picky about writing style and I just gotta say, Helen's is one of the most talented writers I've read. Only something like this date could've derailed my mind from her gorgeous words!!

latch taglist: @the-scandalorian @tobealostwanderer @captain-jebi @prismaticpizza @sunipostsstuff @jaa1682-27 @onebrownoneblue @kesskirata @fangirlalexia @tortles @girlofchaos @spideysimpossiblegirl @just-a-sewer-goblin @kotemorons @hotchlover @keldabe-kr

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #latch

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dindjarindiaries · 2 months ago

Text

Distraction

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: "You need to distract me. Do something, anything." & Kissing as a distraction

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

Din's visor tilted at the sight of you, his modulated voice as charming as ever as he greeted you at your doorway. "Hey."

All you could do was blink at him in response, your gaze transfixed on the sight of his gloved hand clutching the hilt of a blade that was lodged between his shoulder and his chest.

"Can I come in?"

His words finally snapped you back into action. You all but tugged him inside, the anxious knot wounding itself even tighter within your chest when you heard him grunt at the movement. After securing the door closed, you turned back to Din and properly assessed the situation.

Your eyes weren't deceiving you. There was still a blade lodged inside his flesh, and he didn't seem worried about it whatsoever—despite how much crimson you saw staining his flight suit. "Shit, Din." You fussed as you practically ran around your flat in search of your medpac. "Shit."

Din huffed. "Don't you want to know how it happened?"

You fixed him with a look across the room. "You can tell me while we're fixing it."

Din hummed as you approached with the medpac. You eased him into the nearest chair and set the supplies on the table. "I'm gonna need a better distraction than that."

Your furrowed your brow, but didn't step preparing everything you would need to assist him. "What do you mean?"

Your stare remained on your hands as they sorted through the supplies in record time, but you were forced to stop when Din set his gloved hand over them. You looked back up at his visor, watching as he nodded towards the hilt of the blade. "I need you to take this out for me."

Your throat tightened with panic, but you spoke around it. "You... don't want to do that yourself?"

"I can't. It'll be too painful." Din tilted his helmet at you. "Haven't you done this before?"

Your voice was so strained that it was just a squeal. "No!"

Din's hand tightened around yours. "Listen. It's gonna be just fine. Once it's out, the pain will be more than manageable."

He took one of your hands and guided it to the hilt. Your racing heart plunged into your stomach, threatening to make you sick as you instead swallowed hard and focused on Din rather than yourself.

"I only need you to do two things for me. Okay?"

You nodded, more than happy to let Din's soothing voice guide you. It came as no surprise to you that he was the calmer one in this situation, despite the fact he was also the one with the weapon in his shoulder.

"You need to pull this out, and you need to distract me while you do it."

Your gaze searched his visor. "What kind of distraction do you need me to do?"

You instinctively tightened your grasp on the hilt, causing a tight groan to slip through Din's modulator that had clearly caught him by surprise. His next words were curt, but not angered. "Do something. Anything."

You nodded and gently adjusted your grasp. You thought through all your options, looking upon Din for something that you could use to distract him. If talking wouldn't be enough, then there had to be something more powerful.

Your gaze caught on the lip of his helmet. It would be a risky move, but with the fogginess of your panic for him blinding you, you didn't bother to consider the consequences. All you cared about was blinding his pain.

The first move you made was straddling him on the chair, which Din clearly didn't mind, based on the quick way he secured you there. Then, with the hand not clutching the weapon in his shoulder, you lifted his helmet just enough to press your parted lips against his.

It was sweet relief, an acknowledgement shared in the sighs between you, and for a moment it made you forget why you had done it. But the weight of the hilt in your hand still remained, even if the warmth of Din's mouth was a strong distraction.

You were right to make this choice. If he was enough to distract you, then you were no doubt more than enough to distract him.

Your hand on his jaw, which still balanced the metal rim of his helmet, tilted his head back further to deepen the kiss. The moment you pushed your tongue into his mouth, you tugged hard on the blade, freeing it from his shoulder.

Din released his groan into you, his teeth capturing your lip as he did so, but he never broke away from you. Instead, after a few heavy breaths, he simply returned the favor by exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless.

But again, the weight of the blade in your hand was too heavy to ignore.

You forced yourself to pull away from him, your brow shooting up as you did so. "That's enough of the distraction, Din." You showed him the blade in your hand. "It's out. We need to fix it now."

Din's gloved hand wrapped around the back of your neck. "It's fine. I can survive for a few more minutes."

When he made the move to kiss you again, you stopped him by setting your thumb over his lips. "Din." Your eyes were at least double their usual size. "You're bleeding out."

Din paused, his hand only leaving your neck to take the lip of his helmet from you. He removed it from his head completely, leaving you to gape in an entirely different way than you had before. His brow rose as his brown gaze burned at you with the same flame of desire that you had lit deep within yourself.

If the sound of Din's natural voice wasn't enough to make you melt on top of him, then the words he spoke certainly were. "Does it look like I give a fuck?"

You yet again blinked at him in surprise, unable to do anything except let the blade clatter to the floor as you willingly went back to him again. You kissed him like your lives depended on it, because—in a way—Din's did. And that's the way he wanted it.

He had just proven that you were more tempting to him than life itself, and that's what made it impossible to put an end to this "distraction."

#ohhhh din djarin the man that you are THE MAN THAT YOU ARE!!!#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #prompts #dindjarindiaries

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kirsteng42 · 2 days ago

Note

I love anything Din related so this is right up my street!!! Loved this tease so much….

Held Is The Seed for the fic asks game, please! <3

Hi lovely Caroline! ❤️ Thanks for the ask and sorry it’s taken me a while to get to it. I’m offering a snippet further down as compensation 😇

The title Held Is The Seed comes from a quote by John Harrigan: “Happiness held is the seed, happiness shared is the flower”. There’s no specific line in the fic that refers to it (at least, not yet), but it seemed appropriate because Din has always hunted his bounties alone, whereas in this fic, he’s teamed up with someone else. Still, he keeps himself relatively closed off from her, essentially holding the seed of his happiness close to his chest. It’s only when he fully opens up and shares himself with her (in traditional smutty fanfic fashion 😏) that his happiness has a chance to bloom.

It’s basically a four-part smut-fest. The concept is that they’re in a cantina (separately so as not to appear conspicuous or too threatening) to locate a potential source and get some intel. Reader is bored and drinking, and she gets chatted up by a random guy. He notices that she keeps glancing at the Mandalorian in the corner, assumes he’s got competition, and claims Mandos make poor lovers. Reader vaguely thinks Din is attractive but assumes he’s kind of sexless, but she defends his honour nonetheless and invents a few stories about him to shut her would-be suitor up…

“How would you know?” you challenge. “Maybe there are loopholes. Maybe he can take it off in the dark or if his partner wears a blindfold. Maybe he’s the best damn lay in this bar, and women tell stories about his legendary talent with his tongue. Did you consider that?” With your attention now entirely on Zabrak(ish), you can’t see Mando’s reaction to your somewhat lewd suggestions, but you can imagine he’s probably shocked. The two of you banter occasionally, but you know him to be a sweet guy when he hasn’t got his gruff hunter guise on, and you bet this kind of talk makes him blush. The one time you’d mentioned anything carnal in front of him, he had awkwardly slunk off to the cockpit and hidden for a few hours. You, however, are enjoying the expression on Zabrak(ish)’s face. It’s equal parts annoyed that you’re defending his rival and worried that you might be right and he’s lost the game. Hilarious. You need to press more. Swishing the whiskey in your glass, you take a swig and raise an eyebrow. “You wondered why I was looking at him. Maybe I’ve heard rumours. A Mandalorian in silver armour, the best in the parsec at licking and dicking. Fights well, fucks well.” You risk a glance at Mando and see he has his back to you now and is with a shifty-looking guy who is speaking furtively. The informant. You’re glad he’s distracted, to be honest. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t hear what you’re saying about him. It might reveal your desires, and since you work and live with this man, you shouldn’t complicate things. Zabrak(ish) now seems torn between erupting in anger or collapsing in tears. But emboldened by your success so far and the knowledge that Mando can’t hear, you decide to weave another false scenario to illustrate to this guy why he shouldn’t make assumptions about your partner. “And even if the helmet never comes off, maybe he’s got other talents. Knows exactly how and where to use his fingers to make a woman come in seconds. Talks so deliciously dirty through the modulator that he can get her off without even touching her. Has a huge cock and knows how to use it. And by the way, the whole mysterious armoured warrior thing is seriously attractive. So sorry, pal, you’re outmatched on this one.”

I’m sure you can see where this is going!

Din has, in fact, overheard, and he later offers to prove Reader’s speculations correct one by one. First with just his voice (dirty talk ahoy!), next with his fingers, then with his tongue, and lastly with his dick.

There’s a tiny snippet here from an old WIP challenge post taken from a paragraph near the end of the dirty talk scene. Depending on whether this gets much interest (which I doubt because I’m not tagging anyone), I may post something a little spicier later, but let’s just say Din finds an innovative use for that ridge along his shoulder pauldron… 😳

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mellowswriting · 5 months ago

Text

new perspective

pairing || Din Djarin x f!Reader

word count || 2.8k

summary || teaching the infamous Mandalorian to slow down and enjoy life isn't easy. it takes planning, patience - and silken sheets apparently.

content || SMUT, domesticity, simple pleasures, shower sex, sensual massages (i'm incorrigible), p in v sex, cowgirl position 🤠, slow sweet sex, post-orgasm planning for the future (this is din, after all)

a/n || i know, i know. i can hear it all now. "mel, where the fuck have you been???" celebrating my graduation and then immediately devolving into an existential crisis. but that's okay! not only have i figured out my direction in life, but i've returned with everyone's favorite topic: simping for Din Djarin.

Din Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library Blog

Din Djarin is not a man who knows how to take his time. He’s a workhorse, constantly on the go from one job to the next. He simply never learned the skill of savoring the little things in life. A good meal, a hot shower, a full night’s rest, leisure time. All of those things are simply a stranger to him. Any pleasure he takes, usually at his own hand, is perfunctory at best, a release of tension for its own sake.

Until you.

It starts simple - a set of silken sheets that you bring onto the Crest. Din returns to find you sprawled out on the small bed you share with a sleepy smile that makes his chest feel funny. Your fingers fan out against the soft material.

“Come feel.” You murmur. He doesn’t hesitate to tug off the thick leather gloves and brush the fabric with the back of his fingers. You watch as his shoulders soften, his head tilting as he takes in the foreign feeling. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” He says contemplatively. “It’s soft.”

Your smile widens and you shift over, making room for your lover. “Join me?”

“In a bit,” Din promises. The chill of his beskar soaks into your skin as he presses his forehead to yours. His warm palm cups your cheek and he holds you there for a breath before pulling away. “I have some more work to do.”

It isn’t hard to convince him to strip down when he joins you later that night. He’s exhausted, body aching from a long day’s work. He lets you strip away his armor and flight suit until he’s left in his briefs. You’re used to him falling asleep the moment he collapses into bed - but tonight is different. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he relaxes back into the pillows, his fingers rubbing circles against new sheets. Din is a man of few words but it’s obvious how much he likes the new addition to the bedroom.

“Come here,” He whispers, beckoning you to join him. The tension melts from his body as you curl up against his side. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, a wordless offer of his thanks that you eagerly accept. Surrounded by the cool sheets and the woman he loves, he falls asleep within minutes. That morning, Din lingers in bed for those first drowsy moments after waking. He wakes you with a few gentle caresses of his hands over your shoulder and arm and a murmur of your name. He looks more rested than usual.

You make sure to buy matching pillowcases the next time you’re out.

With every passing day, Din learns how to slow down and savor the morning. It doesn’t take much to keep him in bed with you a little longer each morning - a few soft touches and sweet kisses, and Din sinks right back into your arms. He rubs his face into the crook of your neck and drifts in and out of sleep, practically purring with every brush of your fingers through his hair. His voice, so deep and rough first thing in the morning, rumbles low in his chest as he murmurs his love into your skin. It’s simple, this early morning peace the two of you share. So simple, but so important.

You slip into the shower with him one random evening. You can’t help it. He’s been gone for two days straight on a bounty hunt and you’ve missed him. His eyes light up with interest as they trail over your naked body, his hands finding your waist and tugging you against him. A shiver of desire arcs up your spine - but you didn’t come here to get fucked silly in the shower. Well, not yet at least. You loop your arms around his shoulders and press up on your toes to kiss him properly. Din groans against your lips, already moving to press you against the shower wall. A gentle tug on his hair is enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask, looking up at him like the picture of innocence.

Din blinks at you, confused. “You want to… wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” You say softly.

There’s no need to over-explain. The two of you have mastered this silent communication over the months you have spent together. He searches your face for a moment before his expression softens, implicit permission given in the way his eyes shine for you. You gently lather shampoo into his thick curls and let your nails drag along his scalp in the way he loves. His eyelashes flutter under your touch but his eyes don’t close. He’s too intent on watching you. The grip he has on your hips tightens as you work, little groans falling from his lips at the simple pleasure of your hands on his body.

He lets you maneuver him and tilt his head back into the water without a hint of resistance. For a man so used to keeping everyone at arm's length, the trust he holds for you is plain as day. His cock twitches against your belly as your fingers meticulously work the suds from his hair. The barest hint of your skin against his is enough to get him riled up, but this…? The press of your slick, bare body pressed against his? His body language begs for more. He leans into the press of your fingers and cants his hips forward, slowly grinding against you with stuttered breaths.

The moment the water runs clear, Din lifts you by your thighs and presses you against the cold shower wall. You can’t help but admire the bulge of his biceps as he leverages you up and nudges your entrance with the head of his cock, searching your face for permission. The hungry kiss you drag him into is all the permission he needs. A new rush of adrenaline seizes his body as he sinks into you. He fucks you hard and fast, pace faltering at the pure heaven of your body. He wedges his hand between your bodies and rubs insistent circles against your clit. He just knows your body too well - within minutes, those frantic bursts of pleasure built into a powerful orgasm that leaves you trembling and weak in his arms.

Din buries his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside of you just seconds later. Every moan and panted breath echoes through the small shower. You shiver at the feeling of his lips pressed against your neck. He always knows just where to kiss and touch to leave you like putty in his hands. He goes willingly when you guide him in for a real kiss, lazy and slow as the water streams against you. Careful not to let you slip, he lowers you onto your feet and maneuvers you until the water pounds against your back.

You should have expected him to return the favor. Din doesn’t take no for an answer.

“It’s your turn.” He murmurs, too adamant and stubborn to be swayed. You’ve always loved that about him, even when it gives you grief.

You melt into his chest as he works product into your hair, his fingers massaging at your scalp in a way you didn’t even know you needed. Little sounds of satisfaction fall from your lips with every touch. Sometimes you forget just how big his hands are. He palms the back of your head and draws you close enough that your noses brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He just watches you for a moment as he thoroughly washes your hair. He takes in the way you look up at him with an expression so full of love that he aches.

“I love you,” His voice is so low that it almost gets lost in the thrum of water, but you hear it. He can tell by the way your eyes light up, by the soft smile that curls your lips.

“I love you, too.” You whisper back. Din kisses you softly before tilting your head back and rinsing the suds from your hair.

Slowly but surely, you introduce Din to a life he never realized was possible. He learns how to revel in the attention and care you give him. He learns how to give it in return. His thoughts always return to you when he’s on a bounty, knowing he has to return to his little love waiting for him at his ship. Every now and then, he finds something to bring back to you - a little trinket, some sweets, a new book. You always look at him as if he’s placed the entire universe in the palm of your hands. Fuck, he would do it, too. Anything to see you so happy.

Din returns from a week-long bounty exhausted, sore, and with a little gift in hand. It’s just a new robe, something soft and airy for you to wear on those long nights in hyperspace. You gasp softly when he hands it to you, your fingers exploring the silky fabric as if it’s precious - and to you, it is. Not because it’s some rare or expensive treasure. Just because it comes from him.

Allowing you to remove his armor is as easy as breathing. He eagerly accepts every touch and kiss you give him, more than happy to let you do as you please. You set every piece of armor aside with care and neatly fold his flight suit. It doesn’t take any convincing to get him into the shower with you. The burning heat of the water soothes some of the aches that linger in his muscles. A dull throb still follows his every move but he powers through, not wanting to spoil such a pleasant evening with his lover.

He never really learned that he can’t hide anything from you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as he eases himself onto the edge of the bed.

“Just sore,” He concedes, slowly rolling his shoulders in a vain effort to ease the tension. Your eyebrows furrow as you look him over with a keen eye. All you wear is that scrutinizing expression and the pretty robe he got you, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. He sighs and reaches for your hand. “Come on, let’s just get some sleep.”

“You can’t sleep if you’re this uncomfortable.” You squeeze his shoulder, frowning when you feel how tight his muscles are. “Let me help.”

Din meets your gaze, your eyes so earnest that he doesn’t even think to deny you. He lets you maneuver him as you please until he’s laid out on his belly with you straddling his hips. A low groan rumbles through his chest when your hands bear down on his shoulders. Every pass of your fingers brings a strange combination of pleasure and pain that leaves him melting into the bed.

Even after all these months, he just isn’t used to the feeling of your skin against his. A simple passing touch is enough to have him shivering, but this? It’s overwhelming, all-consuming in the best possible way. It doesn’t take long for that pain to melt away into pure pleasure. Breathless, needy sounds follow every pass of your fingers. He can't help but rock his hips, grinding his cock into the silken sheets.

By the time you've finished working your thumbs into his lower back, you've reduced the Mandalorian beneath you into a desperate, hungry mess. He goes without hesitation when you urge him onto his back. His hands immediately find your hips and he grinds up into the heat of your cunt. The only thing that stops him from flipping you over and fucking you into the sheets is the gentle hand you place on his chest.

“Let me.” You whisper. Your voice carries a soft thrum of need that leaves him aching. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers tighten at your hips at the mere brush of your fingers against his cock. That grip becomes bruising as you slowly sink onto him. Pleasure curls through his belly at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him, so hot and slick and perfect - it would be so easy to lose his mind in the rapture of your body. It isn’t easy to keep his eyes open under the onslaught of pleasure, but it’s well worth it. He’s rewarded with the sight of your jaw falling slack and a shiver wracking your body. The stretch, the angle - it’s all new to you. You aren’t used to taking him this way. He isn’t used to letting you.

You sigh a breathy, pleased little sound that makes his heart skip a beat or two. Fuck, you might just be the death of him one of these days. It’s a demise he welcomes if it means meeting his end at your hands. That first roll of your hips has his head tipping back into the pile of fluffy pillows, yet another addition of comfort you’ve brought to this bed. You can’t take your eyes off him - the flex of his biceps, the clench of his jaw, the sheen of sweat that glistens on his tan skin. A delicious vision of the man you’ve come to love so dearly. You lean down and press a kiss to his chest, his collarbone, to that sweet spot where his pulse thrums in his neck.

Your fingers comb through his curls, bringing his pleasure-clouded gaze back to your own. His lips part as you set a slow, steady pace. Every rise and fall of your hips makes his eyelashes flutter but he doesn’t look away. He’s too entranced by this, by the pure newness of it all. Heat pulses and courses through your belly with every grind of your clit against him, grows stronger with every needy sound you pull from him. His chin tips up, an obvious plea, and you kiss him. Soft and slow, full of tongue and teeth.

Din doesn’t think he’s ever experienced anything quite as overwhelming as this. He isn’t a stranger to the feeling of your body or the love you somehow hold for him, but this is all new. Every slow rock of your hips sends honeyed pleasure slinking down his spine. There’s no need to rush. He can take his time and truly feel you, revel in the plushness of your thighs and the wet heat of your cunt. For the first time, he lets himself explore your body unhurried. His hands drift up and palm your breasts, his fingers rolling your nipple with a gentle touch. Your head tips back as you hum a pleased little sound.

Din can’t help but press his hips up, rising every time yours fall. He doesn’t take control, doesn’t try to set a faster pace. He just moves with you as fluid as rushing water. His hands shift to cup your ass, his fingers digging in and spreading you out for him. Desire clouds your gaze as he grinds his hips at that perfect angle that makes you see stars. You’re so close - he can feel it in the telltale rhythmic pulse of your cunt, in the way your thighs tremble. Slick drips in little rivulets down his thighs.

“Perfect, so perfect,” He rambles between rushed breaths. “My sweet girl, all mine.”

“Yours,” You promise. “I’m yours.”

All it takes is one perfect rock of his hips to have you falling apart for him. That tension finally bursts through your belly, your cunt tightening around him with every aching wave of pleasure. You lose all sense, all ability to keep your pace, but Din is quick to take over. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you down, spilling himself as deep as your body can take him. You let yourself melt into his chest, a wave of pleasure shuddering through you with every twitch of his spent cock.

Din locks his arms around your back, all too content to keep your body against his. No complaint comes from you. You just tuck your face into his neck with a spent sigh. The two of you float together in that sweet, exhausted haze. He doesn’t know for how long, but he never wants it to end. He never wants any of this to end. He wants this forever, for every possible moment of his life to be soaked in this contentment. Surrounded by soft sheets and the smell of your perfume. Unhurried and easy, with you.

Months ago, such a realization would have thrown him into an existential crisis. But he didn’t have you all those months ago - this sweet, bright-eyed, spitfire of a woman currently taking a cat nap on his chest. He didn’t have the sweet scent of your shampoo infused in his sheets. He didn’t have your soft exhales ghosting along his throat. He just didn’t know that life could be like this. The moment you shift as if you’re making to get off of him, his arms tighten around you.

“Just a little longer,” He murmurs, his voice sleepy and pleasure drunk.

You're more than happy to indulge him.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader smut #din djarin x you smut

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thefrogdalorian · 8 months ago

Text

The Arrangement

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You entered into an arrangement with Mando find some physical relief from the monotony of hyperspace as you travel through the galaxy together as a formidable team of bounty hunters. When you did so, there were three clear rules: that it would not impact your professional relationship, that there were no strings attached and most importantly of all: that Mando would never, ever remove his helmet.

When you carelessly let your emotions get the better of you and undermine those rules, you fear you have lost the man who means everything to you and discover that you miss much more than merely the physical encounters…

Word Count: 7.1k ✯ Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI ✯ Content Warnings: Smut, light angst, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex. ✯ Author's Note: Well, this was by far the spiciest thing I have ever written and I hope you like it! I get the urge to write smut very occasionally and it was actually pretty fun to explore this side of a relationship with Din. Thanks to the lovely @decembermidnight for helping me out with this one and encouraging me through it! Very much a "Goooood Anakin, gooooood," dynamic. Nervous about posting this one so I'm going to run and hide now but hope you enjoyed it! :)

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

As you lie forlornly on your bunk, isolating yourself further from the man who has already put distance between the two of you, you rue the day you ever allowed yourself to enter into an arrangement with such an elusive man. You think back to all the moments you have shared since your paths first crossed, reminiscing over each one of your encounters.

Tonight is not the first night you chastise yourself for allowing yourself to become entangled with a Mandalorian; far from it.

Since you and Mando first started sleeping together, there have been frequent occasions when you have regretted the day that you gave into your desires and ever allowed yourself to end up underneath him, especially since he is so reclusive and aloof by nature. His reserved nature occasionally frustrates you, though you have always successfully hidden that. Well, almost always.

Mando’s withdrawn, quiet nature began as an attractive trait. His stoic, quiet nature first drew you to him as a business partner.

Except, now you have become something more to each other, such a trait prevents you from knowing him entirely.

And, boy, do you want to know him entirely.

Unfortunately, it seems as though you never will. A fact that you are painfully aware of now Mando cannot even stand to be in the same room as you. He is always hiding away in the cockpit.

You are frustrated at yourself for ever allowing yourself to feel so deeply for him.

What started as a casual arrangement is undeniably something more to you now. He means something more to you now. The man whose presence you cannot bear to be without. The man whose absence creates a great cavernous void in your chest that feels overwhelming.

The arrangement between you and Mando started as a physical release for you. A way to scratch an itch. With no strings attached, the arrangement was merely a way of passing time as you hurtled through hyperspace to collect the next bounty.

You were instantly attracted to Mando since you first glanced at him in the Cantina on Nevarro. With his broad shoulders, narrow waist and imposing form, it was impossible to tear your eyes away from him when he strode in. Even though mostly hidden beneath his armour, you were certain he was gorgeous.

Then you heard him speak.

Maker. His voice. So deep. His tone was so even, including when he was frustrated by the conversation with the head of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild on Nevarro. Even in the face of adversity, Mando kept his composure. The hulking warrior seemed so composed, so certain. His voice was calm and steady.

As a fellow member of The Guild, you were unable to resist the tempting urge to eavesdrop on his conversation with Greef Karga. You heard all about how Mando was struggling to afford the interest on paying off the ridiculous loan he had taken to buy the antiquated Razor Crest. You discovered he was having increasing difficulty covering the fuel that the old girl guzzled. After hearing about his predicament, an idea formed in your head.

It was rare for two members of The Guild to collaborate in such a way. After all, Mando should have been your competition. Something about him was drawing you to him, though. You felt compelled towards him, as though some invisible Force was pushing you together.

You proposed an arrangement to him.

In return for keeping the credits from your jobs, this mysterious Mandalorian would provide transport, lodgings and fuel in his ship. Considering it was an offer to have one of the best Bounty Hunters in the parsec come aboard his ship, you knew it was an offer he could not refuse. Sure enough, Mando accepted.

You had been together ever since.

At first, the arrangement was strictly business. You both kept yourselves to yourselves. Never prying into the other’s affairs.

However, after a couple of months spent traversing the galaxy together, there was a shift in your dynamic.

It turned out that two people existing together in a confined space with only each other to converse with to break the monotony of endless hyperspace lanes would find conversation and, eventually, friendship in each other. Despite their best efforts to avoid such a dynamic.

While friendship blossomed, so did other feelings.

You had never been able to deny your attraction to Mando to yourself. Pretty soon, you could not even deny it to him. Not when he asked you outright after imbibing one too many flagons of spotchka.

The first night you slept together was after a particularly heavy night of drinking at a seedy Cantina next to the shipyards of Corellia. There had been an unavoidable tension in the air that night. The alcohol had only enhanced your existing attraction towards each other to the point where it was no longer possible to ignore. The booze finally gave you the courage to vocalise them.

The tension which lingered in the air all evening was only magnified when you finally staggered back to the Razor Crest. It was practically suffocating being so close to him in that old ship.

In hoping that you would quickly fall into Mando’s bunk alongside him, you had vastly underrated the meticulousness of your business partner.

Even in your inebriated states, he had taken the time to lay out the ground rules. Despite how desperate you were for him, every inch of you aflame, Mando had insisted on setting some boundaries before your first time together.

Firstly, he insisted that sleeping together should not get in the way of your professional relationship. Mando would not give you favourable rates or discounts, nor would he expect them from you, just because you were sleeping together. He made it abundantly clear that, at any time, either of you could back out. The end of the arrangement would not impact your life together.

Secondly, there were no strings attached. No feelings. No declarations of love were wanted nor expected. Ideally, no emotions at all; this was strictly a physical relationship. You were to enjoy each other’s bodies and bring each other pleasure, but that did not necessarily mean that feelings ran any deeper than merely enjoying the way he relentlessly pounded into you, night after night, as you soared through the stars together.

Thirdly, and most importantly to Mando: the armour stayed on. All of it. Including the helmet. You were never, under any circumstances, to question this rule. You were never to attempt to remove any of his armour. If you did, it would not only terminate your physical arrangement with Mando. But your professional one, too.

You were so desperate to finally relieve the tension that had been simmering for months that you were more than happy to agree to terms.

You did not regret your decision for even a moment once Mando ended up in the bunk with you.

In allowing your desire for him to win out, you discovered that he was a skilled lover, even with the limitations of his armour. You could not touch him, see his face or feel his mouth, but he made it work. He always ensured you came first, knowing exactly how to please you.

Your encounters with Mando were a way to blow off steam, a release you both craved. It broke up journeys and brought you closer together. Your professional lives went from strength to strength. You were attuned to each other’s bodies. With each encounter, it felt as though you were slowly becoming one.

Even if you feared catching feelings for Mando, you always consoled yourself that it would never amount to anything. You were sure he did not feel for you in that way.

Whenever you doubted the arrangement, you thought about how the positives far outweighed the negatives. After all, keeping your sexual encounters in-house, so to speak, was a far safer option than putting yourselves in such a vulnerable position, entirely at the behest of others. Your reputation as a formidable bounty-hunting team preceded you throughout the galaxy. You were certain that there would be no shortage of people who would be keen to seduce you and Mando for their benefit.

The arrangement was perfect for both of you. It satisfied your carnal desires.

At least, at first, it did.

The closer you grew to Mando, the more your lives became intertwined, the more difficult it was to respect how strongly he felt about keeping himself covered when you slept together.

To begin with, Mando only took his cock out of the confines of his flightsuit. His armour remained on, digging into your skin. The various plates of his armour colliding roughly with your skin was a sensation you did not mind one bit, especially the touch of his cool beskar on your flushed skin.

Although you were entirely naked before him, with every inch of your skin displayed. At first, Mando did not even remove his gloves.

During those early encounters, you would barely even touch him. Fearful of being scolded, of ruining what you had. He often took you from behind, pounding into you after he bent you over the crates or the edge of his bunk. Sometimes on the cockpit's dashboard itself, if you were particularly desperate for each other and could not make it down the ladder to your bunk.

Still, the more you and Mando got intimate with one another, the more desperate you were to reach the man below.

When he finally allowed you to ride him as he sat on the red leather seat of the cockpit, your ass brushing against the cool metal of his thigh plates, you took your chance.

You frantically pushed through the coarse material of his cowl and moved the material which guarded his neck so you could place your lips upon the soft, golden skin you discovered there.

Mando did not seem to mind, never pushing you away.

It became a ritual whenever you slept together. You, delighting as you sucked marks that no one else would be able to see, while Mando groaned and praised you.

You knew the marks were just between the two of you, for your eyes only. Still, their presence nonetheless gave you a thrill in the days afterwards. Especially, when you saw him interacting with others. To know that you had marked him. You had claimed him as yours.

It was a heady prospect that this formidable Mandalorian warrior had been reduced to a whimpering mess by your lips, by such a simple act. He had allowed you to claim him.

It was also a dangerous prospect… to think of him as yours.

You did not dwell on it for too long, however.

After that first time you desperately sought out his skin as you rode him in the cockpit, something shifted deep within Mando.

That small action had clearly awakened some previously untouched feelings in him. The next time you slept together Mando allowed you to remove his flightsuit. You had not acknowledged this shift or dared to believe that it could mean that he held any deeper feelings for you than the lust and desperation borne out of your encounters.

Still, from that day forth, rather than just taking his impressive length out and nothing else, he would undress himself and wait for you on the bunk, clad in nothing but his helmet.

It was a sign of ultimate trust. Of vulnerability from a man who you knew rarely allowed himself to feel such an emotion.

Now you lie here despondently at the knowledge that you have ruined everything.

Your heart constricts as you remember how close you and Mando once had been. How much you had trusted each other. Entirely. Unquestioningly.

Those times seem so distant now.

Now that you and Mando have stopped speaking.

Since your last encounter more than a week ago, which happened in the aftermath of a particularly stressful job on the forest planet where you had collected your latest bounty, he has not said a word to you.

Mando has been completely ignoring your existence… and you have a pretty good idea as to the reason why.

In fact, as you think back to your most recent encounter, turning over the thoughts in your mind once again, you are certain of the moment you ruined everything…

✯✯✯✯✯

You had barely made it to the bunk, so desperate for each other after spending days camped out in the undergrowth. Dirt still clung to your pores, invading every crease of your body. There had been no opportunity to use the sonic. You were preoccupied with loading up the bounty, as Mando started the Razor Crest’s launch sequence. Despite your dishevelled, filthy appearance, Mando did not seem to mind. He initiated another encounter without hesitation.

Your condition seemed to unlock something primal within him when you bore yourself to him, traces of dirt on your skin. The musky scent of the forest planet clung to him as he bared his hulking form to you after stripping out of his flightsuit. He was feral, desperate for you as he pounded into you at a merciless pace. Mando moaned loudly and chanted your name as though it were a sacred prayer until he finished with one long growl of your name in his deep, gravelly voice that strained under each syllable.

In the aftermath, as you lay on his strong chest, you allowed your mind to wander. You wondered what the man beneath the helmet looked like. Whether he was as attractive as the rest of his body suggested. His body was firm and toned without being overwhelmingly muscular. There was a softness to his belly and chest you appreciated. A physique more than appropriate for a man of his age.

You ached to move your hands beneath his helmet, tracing his features with your fingers so that you may see him in the only way possible for you to do so. To catch the vaguest of glimpses of the man who had brought you so much pleasure over the last few months.

Still blissed out from your multiple orgasms and barely comprehending the gravity of your words and how dangerously close to the line you were stepping, you said something which you wished you could take back almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“I wish I could see your face when you moan my name, Mando,” you sighed as you lay there in the afterglow.

The shift was immediate. You felt Mando tense beneath you. Your comment had unsettled him. The guilt was immediate.

“Wait, Mando,” you quickly added, your blood ran cold as you realised your carelessness, “I wasn’t asking you to remove it… I was just thinking out loud. Please, Mando, I…”

Your words were cut off when he shuffled out from beneath you, disentangling himself from your limbs that had been entwined ever since you collapsed in a heap of breathless satisfaction after your latest encounter.

Without uttering a single word to you, you heard Mando’s heavy footsteps echo throughout the metallic hull and disappear into the fresher to finally wash the grime from his body.

When he finally exited, you attempted to apologise to him one more time. Unfortunately, he was thoroughly uninterested in anything you had to say. You stood before him, the threadbare blanket from the bunk wrapped around you, pleading for mercy. A formidable bounty hunter reduced to a trembling wreck, begging for Mando's forgiveness. Mando did not respond to anything you said. Instead, he immediately excused himself while mumbling about checking the hyperdrive generator.

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the last few miserable days, you have distracted yourself from the uneasy atmosphere which hangs heavy in the ship by thoroughly polishing each one of your blasters and thinking back to happier times.

Like the time when Mando stripped himself from his flightsuit for the first time and allowed you to finally see him almost entirely. As entirely as you ever would.

The way his taut, toned flesh felt underneath your fingers as you traced each ridge of his muscles with delicate, tentative fingers. His sweaty skin slapped against yours, an obscene noise which reverberated throughout the rest of the ship.

As you lie back on your bunk, you cannot help your fingers trailing down your abdomen. Lower and lower until they reach between your thighs.

You are stunned by how wet you are before you have even touched yourself, so turned on by merely the memories of Mando.

You gather your wetness with your fingers before you begin moving them in a circular motion over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You think back to that first time you laid eyes upon Mando. His impressive physique. The way he picked up the pace to fuck you even harder when you raked your nails down his flesh. Moaning and grunting into your neck as you left marks down his broad back.

You remember the unmistakable scent of sex that lingered in the air afterwards, amplified by the fact there were now two bare bodies during your encounters, not just one. It was almost overwhelming to your senses, the scent of him. So masculine and musky. So Mando.

You groan at the memory, clenching around nothing. You feel so empty, desperate to feel the delicious burn as Mando’s thick cock stretches you and reaches parts of you never filled before. You slide two fingers inside yourself and begin thrusting out. Although it satisfies the ache, it pales in comparison to the fullness and completeness you feel whenever Mando snaps his hips forward and thrusts into you in one fluid motion.

You try to remember how he felt, pathetically imagining that your fingers are in any way comparable to his touch. To his length. It is the best you are going to get, for now.

Your nipples pebble and tighten beneath the thin cotton shirt you wear. The material provides some friction, but nothing as satisfying as when Mando would roll them between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy. Still, you moan at the memory, continuing to thrust your fingers inside of you with one hand while the other massages your clit.

“Mando,” you gasp when you pick the pace up.

Both hands and your fingers working in tandem still are nowhere near as satisfying as even one of Mando’s thick, calloused digits.

“Kriff, Mando!” you yell as your legs begin trembling.

You are so close now. That familiar feeling builds somewhere deep inside of you. A coil tightening, ready to release.

A familiar voice behind you, tone full of concern, “Are you okay? I heard–” followed by a gasp of surprise and hastily retreating footsteps kills the mood instantly.

“Sith hells!” you exclaim, annoyed to have been interrupted when you were so close to climax.

That frustrated feeling soon gives way to embarrassment as you realise that Mando probably heard you from all the way up in the cockpit. He has spent much of his time up there, only descending the ladder to use the fresher or prepare himself rations. Even then, he usually only comes down when he can hear that you have sealed yourself into your bunk for the night.

You must have called his name far louder than you had realised in the throes of passion. You wonder how you will ever face him again. You pull your pants up and step out of the bunk, keen to at least attempt to converse with the stubborn buckethead.

Fortunately, you do not have to wait long. Mando soon emerges from the fresher. There is an awkward silence. He stands there, clad in his flightsuit and helmet, clenching and unclenching his gloved fists at his sides repeatedly. It is a mannerism you recognise well, usually seen when he is trying to size up a target or decide his next move. Is that how he sees you—as prey?!

“Mando,” you breathe, “Please, can we talk?”

Mando does not move a muscle. He stands perfectly still, at full height. A looming, intimidating presence in the darkness of the hull.

“Look, I know I upset you the other day,” you begin, sincerely laying out your feelings and hoping that he comprehends how remorseful you are. “I’m so sorry, Mando. Please believe me. I know what I said was thoughtless, but I wasn’t thinking. I would never expect you to take your helmet off for me. I know how much being a Mandalorian means to you. I would never try to come between you and your Creed,” you promise.

You briefly pause, searching Mando’s body language for the smallest clue as to his feelings. Unfortunately, he is so used to hiding his emotions from the rest of the galaxy that you cannot glean even a crumb of information.

“I miss you, Mando,” you sigh, “And not just like that!” you hastily add, hoping that he does not think your apology is in any way related to the compromising position he just caught you in.

Mando remains perfectly still. It’s progress, at least. He has not retreated. You take that as a sign to continue.

“I miss the nights we spent together in the cockpit, sharing memories of our past and discussing our hopes for the future. The way you would always make sure there was a warm cup of caf for me each morning when I finally hauled myself from the bunk. You were always so eager to rise, while I have never been a morning person,” you smile fondly, attempting to fight the tears that have suddenly pooled on your waterline. “Remember when you showed me each of your weapons? Showing me just how you liked them polished and ordered. Somewhere along the way, they became our arsenal, Mando. Our weapons are together in the locker, side-by-side. Just like us.”

You finally get the first clue of the impact your words are having on Mando when his broad shoulders rise and fall. The shaky breath he takes is amplified by his vocoder. Reminiscing has left him emotional on some level, too. It’s a positive sign. You make headway with it.

“I will forever be grateful for the day I overheard that conversation with Karga in that Cantina on Nevarro. Even though I used to curse this ship after I first came aboard, I think it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Without it and the loan you took out to cover costs, you would never have required someone else. I know…” you sigh, choosing your next words carefully as you are painfully aware that you are likely going to come dangerously close to overstepping another boundary. “I know that you do not always take kindly to strangers, Mando. I know that you have been alone for so long that you have probably forgotten what it feels like to be with someone else. But what we had was something special. I miss that. I miss us, Mando.”

Mando’s helmet falls, then. His unrelenting, steely gaze is finally off you. You are getting through to him. You keep talking, hoping that your words have the desired effect.

“You mean so much more to me than our encounters, Mando,” you confess. “I enjoyed every second, don’t get me wrong. But I would take them all back in a heartbeat to go back to how things were before. I would rather have only had you in my life platonically than having you like that and losing you…

What happens next catches you completely off-guard.

Firstly, Mando tilts his helmet up. His helmet is finally level with you again, focused on you. You look into the dark, T-visor where you imagine his eyes would be. You can almost feel his eyes on you. Your heart starts thundering. You feel that connection back. That spark.

Before you even have time to digest his actions, Mando’s deep voice finally breaks the silence:

“I love you,” he says simply.

Does he love you?! You are sure you misheard him. Your desperate mind is playing the cruellest trick of all.

“Y-You love me?” you choke out in disbelief.

“I do.”

“Oh, Mando, I love you too,” you tearfully whisper.

“Din,” Mando rasps.

You look at him questioningly.

“My name,” Mando nods, “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

“Din Djarin,” you murmur the name of the man you love with such reverence, as though it is a sacred prayer, enjoying the way your mouth curves around each letter.

Your head is still spinning from Din’s declaration and the reveal of his name. You have barely had time to process the events which have just transpired when he drops the next bombshell on you.

“I want to remove my helmet in front of you,” Din declares, “I want you to know me entirely.”

“Din, I wouldn’t expect such a thing,” you shake your head frantically, “Just because we have confessed our feelings, I would never expect you to take such a drastic step.”

“That…” he sighs, “Is precisely why I am taking such a step.”

You do not have time to vocalise any further protestations. Before another thought can enter your mind, Din lifts shaky gloved hands to the side of his helmet. You hear the unmistakable sound of a Mandalorian helmet depressurising. Something you had only ever heard through the door of the fresher until now.

Din trembles as he lifts his helmet. The emotion of the moment takes its toll as he prepares to finally bear his face to you. Your mind almost goes blank. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and his heavy breaths.

As the gleaming helmet finally begins to lift across his features and reveal his face to you, you get your first glimpse of the man you love.

You see patchy stubble across his jawline, a neatly trimmed moustache plush which sits atop plush, full lips, a strong nose and then, with his helmet fully removed, his most striking feature of all. His eyes. The most soulful pair of deep brown eyes that you have ever encountered.

Din Djarin is stunning. Heartachingly so.

With just one look at his face, you know that you will never be able to allow this beautiful man to slip through your fingers.

“Din,” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears as he stands there before you, his helmet clutched before him as he looks up at you.

There is so much nervousness and anxiety in his gaze that your heart aches for him. Unable to bear the eye contact any longer, Din bends down and places his helmet at his feet with a satisfying clunk.

He stands up straight again, but not to his full height. With his face bared and the slight tremble evident in his body. You no longer see a hulking Mandalorian warrior and feared bounty hunter. Instead, you see a frightened man, who has never known such intimacy before.

“You are so handsome, Din Djarin,” you whisper, as you close the distance between you.

Din’s mouth hangs open as your words sink in. You raise your hand, realising you are trembling with emotion, and timidly place it along his jawline. The patchy stubble is scratchy underneath your fingers.

“Devastatingly handsome, in fact,” you clarify.

“Thank you,” Din nods gratefully.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Din swallows thickly, steadying himself. When his brown eyes fly open and meet yours again, you notice the apprehension has been replaced by something different altogether.

Din’s brown eyes are aflame, burning with desire for you. You sense he is desperate to act on his feelings, but unsure of how to proceed.

“Can I kiss you?” you request.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Din murmurs, closing his eyes again.

“You’ll learn quickly,” you say encouragingly.

Din nods slowly, without opening his eyes.

You close the distance between you, hovering an inch from his lips. You want Din to make the final move, to bring your lips together.

When he finally does, it is so achingly sweet and timid that you are surprised this is the same man who has bent you over crates and driven into you over and over, at a relentless pace. Until you were bruised and sore the next day from the force.

Din pulls away, breathing deeply. A simple touch has been almost overwhelming for him.

You wait for his next move, allowing him to take the lead with what he is comfortable with. When Din finally leans in again, he is more eager to claim your lips. The kisses deepen, growing increasingly frenzied as your tongues collide. Your hand trails along Din’s jawline and grazes along his neck. When you move your hands into his hair and tangle your fingers in the soft strands there, Din groans and presses his body against you.

In response, you lean your head to the side to give him unfettered access to your mouth. Din does not hesitate to take advantage, deepening the kiss without hesitation. He moves his enormous hands up to your cheeks, cupping them in his enormous hands.

Your kisses grow more desperate and frenzied, the moaning and panting increasing. Although Din was inexperienced and clumsy at first, your teeth clashing and his tongue searching yours desperately before he learned a more pleasurable ratio of tongue to mouth, you discover that he is indeed a quick learner. He nibbles on your lip, using his teeth in a way that he discovers you like as you throw your head backwards and gasp his name. You are still getting accustomed to the novelty of being able to call him something other than Mando.

When your lungs burn, Din finally pulls away. The two of you furiously gulp air into your lungs, steadying your breaths as your eyes meet. You allow yourself to look at Din once again, admiring the features which are so new to you. Yet somehow, comfortingly familiar. You feel as though you have always known his face. In Din’s brown eyes, you see awe, shock and lust. Despite their already dark colour, they are blackened by something primal.

You are about to suggest taking this to your bunk when Din drops to his knees before you, a dark look on his face. You are about to question the gesture when he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your pants and shimmies them down your legs as he goes.

He kisses a path up your legs, pushing himself up so he kneels one leg as he pays particular attention to your inner thighs. Din takes his time teasing you. He removes the final barrier between you, discarding the pesky fabric elsewhere.

When Din finally kneels before you, your glistening core bare to him you feel your knees weaken as he licks his lips at the sight in front of him. You groan, barely able to remain vertical. Thankfully, Din is holding your hips firmly in position, his gloved hands digging into your flesh.

At the sight of him on his knees like this before you, you think that this experience cannot possibly be any more arousing.

Then, his tongue touches you where you have been aching for him to place his mouth most of all, and you discover how wrong you were.

He wastes no time sliding his tongue through your wet folds. Din makes up for his inexperience with enthusiasm and you move your hands down to run your fingers through his soft, dark curls. Keen to keep him in just the right spot, especially when he finally places his tongue where your fingers had been frantically circling minutes ago.

“Din!” you gasp, when his tongue picks up its pace, clenching your thighs around his head and feeling his facial hair tickle your inner thighs.

Hearing his name fall from your lips in such a desperate manner only encourages him. He continues lapping at your core with a renewed fire and determination.

“Just there, just like that,” you praise.

Din continues for a few more moments and you feel your orgasm gathering pace within you. When your legs begin to shake, he moves his head back and you almost scream in frustration. But then you see the look on his face, and his sins are soon forgiven.

“Know how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs?” Din rasps, his voice barely audible and muffled thanks to his current position. “So beautiful,” he adds, before his tongue is on you again and all coherent thought leaves.

The pace is relentless now, Din swirling his tongue around your most sensitive spot as he seems driven to please you. To have you screaming his name so loud they can hear you all across the galaxy.

You chant his name over and over as your orgasm finally breaks, causing pleasure to reverberate throughout your body. Every inch of you is on fire for him. Din looks up at you, his brown eyes practically black. He makes an obscene slurping noise as he seems determined to collect everything on his tongue, not allowing a single drop of you to go to waste.

“Delicious,” Din rasps as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with a satisfied smirk.

You cannot believe how much he seems to relish in your release. How much it arouses him. You know he has always enjoyed pleasing you, just as much as receiving his release. Now, his benevolent nature is on full display once again.

Satisfied you can at least stand by yourself, Din rises to his feet. He looms over you, eyes meeting yours and softening briefly, with something which looks suspiciously like love. You wonder how long he has looked at you like that. How many affectionate glances have been stolen from your eyes by his helmet?

None of that matters, now.

Your train of thought is interrupted as Din resumes kissing you, pinning you up against the cold metallic walls of the Razor Crest. You can barely breathe, unable to move for a few moments as he kisses you. Once you regain feeling in your trembling legs, you begin nudging Din in the direction of the bunk.

He never breaks the kiss as you stumble across the floor. Din cannot get enough of kissing you, his enormous hands roaming all over your body.

The kiss is only broken once the back of your knees hits the bunk. You sit on the hard surface, looking up at him flirtatiously through your eyelashes. You decide Din is far too clothed for your liking and move to free his straining bulge from his tight brown flightsuit. Before you can feel his familiar length in your hand, he places his hand on your wrist and moves you away from him.

You look at him in confusion before he whispers, “Lie back, cyar’ika. Let me take care of you.”

You do as he says, but not before divesting yourself of your clothes. You lie back, awaiting him. Buzzing with excitement to finally lay eyes on Din Djarin in his entirety.

You are entranced as you watch his muscles contract and relax as he removes his flightsuit. Broad muscles and chest bared to you, then his stomach and lower... his muscular thighs and toned calves. The most incredible sight you have ever seen.

Din crawls up the bunk and positions himself on top of you, supporting himself with his elbows as he resumes your makeout session with just as much veracity as before. He plunges his tongue into your mouth over and over, desperate to taste you.

It seems as though Din is scared that he will never have a chance to claim you like this again. Later, you will remind him that you are his for the rest of your days.

For now, you cannot form words, conveying your pleasure only through broken sounds which are torn from your body by Din’s skilled mouth.

The usual straining metallic groans of the Razor Crest as it hurtles through hyperspace are joined by its occupants’ moans and gasps as they collide.

You notice that Din has finally shed his gloves when he takes your breasts in his hands. Squeezing the soft flesh and staring at them as though it is the first time he has ever laid eyes upon them. In a way, it is the first time he has seen many of your features with his own eyes, finally free from the dark visor that distorts everything.

Suddenly remembering he can take your flesh in his mouth, Din begins kissing the valley between your breasts. He trails kisses along both of them, one at a time, paying them equal attention. As though he is worshipping you. Discovering new ways he can show his affection for you. With his helmet removed, an entire galaxy of new possibilities has been opened to him. Now, there are so many ways to demonstrate his affection for you, to revere all the parts of your body he loves so much.

Although you are enjoying his ministrations, you are growing somewhat frustrated by Din’s languid pace. The frenzied kisses and touches have given way to gentle, almost timid, exploration of your body from Din’s lips. When you are about to whine pathetically and beg him to pay attention to your aching buds, Din finally envelops them in his wet heat. He begins paying careful attention to the most sensitive part of your breast. The place where you most wanted his mouth.

You gasp as he begins mouthing sloppy kisses around your nipple, before finally swirling his tongue around your hardened peak. You arch your back off the bunk, giving more of yourself to him. Even in your desire-addled state, you think about how much better his mouth feels than gloved fingers and hands kneading your breasts.

You grind your hips up against Din’s hardness, desperate for some friction. Clenching around nothing as he continues sucking your nipple, each swirl of his tongue only making you more desperate for him.

When you can take it no longer, you place your hand on Din’s head and pull his hair lightly. He looks up at you, raising a dark eyebrow at you.

“Din, please,” you whine, desperate for him to finally take you.

Often, the man you knew only as Mando would tease you at this point. When he had used his deft fingers to draw an orgasm or two from you, leaving you desperate for him. You knew he was satisfied that you were ready for him, but he still wanted to hear it from your mouth. Before giving you what you wanted, he would command you to use your words in a firm tone. Imploring you to tell him where you wanted him.

Fortunately, it appears that the man who has confessed his love for you, will not cruelly tease you. Din is just as desperate as you are; aching for that moment when he finally enters you.

Din kisses a hot trail up the column of your neck, thrusting his hips against you in desperation. He joins his lips with yours one last time before leaning up and taking himself in hand to line himself up with you.

“Wanted to savour this moment but, kriff! You’re so perfect…” Din rambles, “Don’t think I can wait,” he grunts as he notches himself at your entrance.

“Then don’t,” you sigh, begging him to put you both out of your misery.

Din nods, joining your lips one last time before he slides himself into you in one swift, fluid moment. You practically see stars.

Somehow, he feels even bigger. It has not been too long since your last encounter. Even still, you have forgotten how impressive his length is. Your fantasies could not accurately capture how his hardness touches places so deep inside of you that you wonder how it is possible.

Although the friction and sensation are delicious, particularly as Din keeps pressing kisses all over your face and neck, you know that you won’t last long. Since Din caught you earlier when you were so close, you have been on the edge almost continually. Now, he is thrusting into you at a relentless pace. That familiar ache is back. This time, there are no interruptions. Din does not slow down or pull away. You quickly come with another gasp of his name.

After watching you come undone, you are surprised that Din does not let himself go. That he does not allow himself the release you sense he is so desperately chasing. Instead, he continues to ride out your orgasm as he thrusts into you harshly.

“One more,” Din encourages, cupping your cheek in his hand, “I know you have one more for me.”

You nod shakily, eager to please him. In response, Din clashes your lips together, grunting against your lips as he finds a new increased tempo that you are stunned he could muster. All the while impressively maintaining a steady rhythm.

“That’s it,” Din encourages as he feels the way your pants increase and your legs tremble.

When you come with another shout of his name, Din finally lets himself go. His thrusts become increasingly erratic before he finally comes with a shout of your name, burying his face into your neck. His pants are warm against your neck as he paints your belly with hot, thick ropes of his spend.

Din stays like that for a few more moments, careful not to hurt you with his weight as he regains his composure lying on top of you. You feel so content and begin absentmindedly tracing circles into his warm, broad back.

Then, he lifts himself from you. You smile when he lays his head next to you on the pillow, still feeling your heart leap as you realise that you actually get to look at his face. Din looks thoroughly pleased with the events of the night. Happy that he could please you over and over.

“I love you, Din Djarin,” you whisper fondly as you bring your hand up to his jawline, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb.

“I love you too, ner kar’ta,” Din smiles in return, turning his cheek to press a kiss on the palm of your hand.

Since that first encounter in the Cantina on Nevarro, you and Mando have always been partners. Travelling through the galaxy as a formidable, feared pair of bounty hunters.

Now, you and Din are partners… in every sense of the word.

#din djarin fic #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #mando smut #my fics #BYE hope you like this

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ddejavvu · 9 months ago

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grumpy beefy mando falling for soft!reader in her “grandma era” - all she wants to do is crochet, bake and frolic around the galaxy with mando and grogu 🫶🏽

"He doesn't like hats."

You glance up at Din from where you're testing a length of crocheted stitches beneath Grogu's chin, ensuring that the hat inspired by the local flora of the forest planet you've found shelter on won't fall off if he gets too rigorous in his play.

Grogu coos beneath the flower hat, but whether it's in agreement or protest you can't tell.

"He likes this one," You decide, when the little green terror before you doesn't fight as you maneuver his ears through their designated slots, "And he doesn't have to wear it if he doesn't want to."

Your fingers slip the little white button through the slot you've left in the band, and the hat is secured around Grogu's chin; the cutest little flower you ever did see.

"Oh, honey," You gush, scooping the child up and tucking him into your arms, "You wanna see your hat? C'mere, let's look."

You crouch in front of the tree stump that Din has settled on, holding Grogu up to the man's beskar chest plate. It's freshly polished, but not completely reflective, so at the right angle, Grogu catches a blurry, slightly distorted version of himself in a very pink hat.

His legs are still too small to kick in excitement, but his arms pick up the slack, flapping about while copious amounts of baby babble streams from his mouth. Evidently he's pleased with your handiwork.

Din stays silent while he offers his armor up for Grogu's viewing pleasure, but the child's hands soon find the soft strap beneath his chin and tug.

"I told you he didn't like hats..." Din murmurs, not to be cruel, but to fill empty space in the air when your shoulders deflate slightly.

"I thought he'd like it if it was softer," You hum sadly, helping Grogu take the button out of its clasp so that he can tug the hat off of his head, "I just figured he didn't like the helmet you gave him because it was uncomfortable."

As soon as you've freed Grogu from the confines of his flowery prison his hands slap against the shiny metal of Din's armor. He takes the child out of your hands but Grogu keeps his hat tightly clutched in his fist, and, with valiant effort, pushes the hat into Din's helmet, insistently cooing something that sounds suspiciously like buir.

Your giddiness returns, and you circle Din like a hawk, "Oh, you want your buir to wear it? Let's see," Amidst Din's protests you balance the too-small cap on his helmet, and he stills if only to save the hat from slipping and dying a muddy death on the ground below.

"It doesn't fit me." He grumbles, body stiff as he keeps it balanced on his head. Grogu seems pleased with his buir's new headpiece, squealing and showing off his newly-emerged teeth in a grin.

"I'll make you a matching one!" You declare, snatching the hat off of his helmet to give him the freedom of movement again, "Grogu, baby, what color should Din's be?"

"Bah!" Grogu decides, and your steps still where you're racing back towards your shelter.

"Uh... how about purple?" You suggest, and another resounding 'Bah.' is all the encouragement you need.

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cyarikaplease · 3 days ago

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a bird with clipped wings

tow truck driver!din x f!reader

summary: A cruel prank from your friends leaves you stranded in the woods with a flat tire. Left with no other choice, you call up Razor Crest Towing Company and hope the price is right

You should’ve known this was a bad idea. Your “friends” always fuck you over. You should’ve known this party was a front the second you turned onto this dirt road. There’s nothing around for miles, just trees and the stars above. You glance at your phone– barely any service, and contemplate calling your friend, Becca, again. It’d require you to swallow your pride, to beg for the real address, to reveal how desperate you are to fit in.

You just don’t have it in you.

Fuck it.

But when you put your car in reverse and back down the road, it doesn’t… feel right. You glance out the rearview mirror. You didn’t hit anything. But a beeping sound from the dash catches your attention, along with a flashing yellow signal– Low tire pressure.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You hastily leave the car and search for which tire it could be. It’s worse than you anticipated. Your back tire on the passenger side is flat. And now your car is completely undrivable. You don’t have a spare or a patch kit in your trunk either. You can already hear your dad’s words ringing through your head; You know better. Be prepared.

God, you feel like a fucking idiot.

You dash back to the front of your car, reaching for your phone in the center console. As fast as your fingers will type, you search tow trucks in the area, hoping for one not too far from wherever the fuck you are. You click on the first place that comes up– Razor Crest Towing Company, praying your phone’s signal doesn’t drop mid-call.

“Razor Crest Towing Company, how may I be of service?” a man’s sultry voice says over the receiver.

“Yes, hello. My car has a flat tire and I’m stranded.”

“And you don’t have a spare? Or a patch kit?” he deadpans.

Now’s not the time for a fucking lecture.

“Nope. It’s your lucky night.”

The man sighs and says, “Where are you located?”

You pull the phone away from your ear to look at the address Becca texted you, reading it back to him.

“Oh, you’re quite a ways out. I’m afraid it’ll take me some time to get to you.”

“Oh… How long?”

He sighs and says, “Probably a good hour or so. I just have to gas up my truck before I leave, little bird. Are you safe? Are you alone?”

“...Yes, I’m alone.”

“Stay in your car and wait for me, little bird. Be there as soon as I can.”

He called you that nickname twice now. You don’t even know this guy.

“Okay. Bye,” you say, hanging up the phone and groaning. What a fucking disaster this is. But you do what he says, sitting in your car until he can reach you. You spend the next hour thinking about him, where he could be from, and what he looks like. Maybe he’ll be cute. God, now’s not the time for a fucking meet cute.

You grab your phone and block Becca’s number, truly fed up with her shit ever the stunt she pulled tonight. You’d rather be friendless rather than friends with a bunch of fakes.

A red light in your mirror startles you, causing you to jolt and look up from your phone. It’s the tow truck, backing up to your car. You get out and shut the door, waiting for the man to come and greet you. It’s a beat-up silver truck with the words Razor Crest Towing Company painted on the door in a black font. But seeing the truck makes you remember one important detail– You never asked what the price would be.

“What do we have here? A wounded little bird?” the man says. That fucking nickname again. He walks over to you and gestures to the pathetic remnants of your tire. Upon seeing him, you find that your suspicions are correct. He is cute– at least you think he is. The lower half of his face is covered by a black bandanna. His messy brown curls stick to his forehead with sweat. But then you notice his brown eyes illuminated with red from the brake lights.

You shrug, unsure of how to respond to that.

“Looks like somebody clipped your wings…” he says, crouching down to look at your tire.

“I guess?”

He looks up at you and says, “Where are my manners? I never introduced myself. The name’s Din.”

Strange name.

He stands and extends his hand out, offering a handshake. You give him your hand reluctantly, finding him a little offputting for reasons you don’t understand. You tell him your name and he repeats it to him a couple of times.

“Well let’s get this show on the road, little bird,” he says, starting to walk back to his truck.

“Wait!”

He turns and raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

“I never… asked how much this is going to be.”

“Where do you need to be towed to?”

“Um, my dealership, and then I need to be dropped off back home.”

You give him the addresses for both and he does some mental math, muttering under his breath before coming up with a price.

“About three hundred or so.”

Fuck. You didn’t budget for this at all. God, this is a fucking mess.

“Oh…”

“Is there a problem, little bird?”

“I, um, didn’t think it was going to be that much…”

“Oh, I see. You’re in quite the predicament here.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time. I can call someone else.”

“Hang on now. You’re not gonna find someone else with fair prices like me.”

“...No?”

“No. Plus, I can’t leave you out here alone for Maker knows how long. Precious little things such as yourself can’t be left unattended.”

“What do I do?” you plead, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Hey now, don’t get distressed. We can work this out.”

He takes a step towards you, placing his hands on your shoulders. An unsettling smirk graces his face and you can’t help the feeling like you’re not going to be able to say no to whatever he offers you.

“How?”

“With that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach. Somehow you knew he was going to suggest something like this. You could say no. You could call another tow truck. But you think about what he said about the others’ pricing, your phone’s weak reception, and what time it must be already.

It can’t be that bad. You’re attracted to him already. And besides… What other choice do you really have?

“Okay,” you say, closing your eyes as a single tear rolls down your cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb, telling you, “Good girl. Let’s head to the front of the car, little bird.”

He lets go of you and walks to the front of your car, leaning against the hood as he takes his cock out of his worn-out, earth-toned pants. You follow him and fall to your knees, sinking ever so slightly into the dirt beneath you. He strokes his already hard cock, pre-cum beaded up at the tip.

“Be a good girl,” he reminds you.

You look up at him, opening your mouth and taking his cock inside. He curses under his breath, reaching a hand out to caress your cheek. You swirl your tongue in between the tip of his cock and his foreskin, wrapping your hand around the base. You keep your eyes on him, watching for his reaction and making sure you’re doing a good job. Saliva mixed with his pre-cum slides down his shaft, making his blowjob wetter and sloppier by the second. The surrounding area is filled with the sounds of the forest, Din’s strained moans, and the wet squelching sounds of your mouth.

“Shit, little bird, that mouth…” he praises, voice dripping with arousal.

You hum into him, sending a vibration down his shaft. He shivers in response, head thrown back in pleasure, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. You take your other hand and cup his balls, bobbing your head up and down as you work to send him over the edge. He tastes salty, with an undertone of sweat, but you’re not complaining. His forehead shines under the moonlight, flyaways sticking to his skin. He lets out another mangled groan, letting you know he’s close. You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, sucking in your cheeks and going faster.

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh-.”

Just when you think he could cum, he stops, gripping either side of your face. He pulls his cock out of your mouth and you look at him with a puzzle expression.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no. Quite the opposite,” he pants.

“Then why did you stop?”

“My sweet girl,” he smirks, brushing his calloused thumb over your cheek. “To reward you.”

You freeze, waiting for further instructions. He slides out from in front of the car, taking a place behind you instead.

“Stand up for me, little bird.”

You stand from the ground, goosebumps pricking your skin in anticipation of what he’ll do next.

“And bend over for me like a good girl.”

You bend over the hood of your car, cool metal pressed against your cheek. He hikes up your skirt, taking a moment to cup your ass with his large hand.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, pulling your panties to the side.

Your cheeks heat up at his praise but soon enough it feels like your whole body is set aflame as his cock enters you. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you adjust to his size, writhing against the hood of your car. He grabs onto your waist, railing into you at an unforgivable speed. The force of his hips slamming into you has you moaning and whining, getting ready for the undeniably large orgasm you’ll have.

“So wet. So pretty. So perfect,” he praises, gripping your waist tighter.

But at this point, you’re well past complete sentences, only responding in the form of a whimper.

“No, no. Use your words.”

“It feels so fucking good,” you whine in between labored breaths.

“That’s right, little bird. Tell me how good my cock feels.”

“Mmm, it’s so big, Din,” your voice high pitched as your orgasm draws near.

“Say my name as you cum,” he commands.

“Fuck, Din. I’m gonna cum,” you cry out, coming undone around his cock.

He fucks you through your high, stars in your vision joining the ones in the night sky. Your moans ripped through the stillness of the forest, cunt clenching and releasing him erratically.

“Good girl,” he praises, holding off his orgasm for as long as he can before pulling out and painting your ass with his release. “Shit,” he sighs.

His hand slides over your ass, collecting his spend. “Turn around.” You face him, taking note of the wild look in his eyes. “Open.” You open your mouth and take his fingers in your mouth, licking the cum off of them. You put on a show for him, sucking obscenely as he praises, “Such an angel, little bird.”

He cups your chin, brushing his thumb against your soft skin as he sighs. Your exhaustion hits you all at once and your eyelids flutter close.

“Wait for me in the truck, little bird. I’ll get this hooked up.”

“Okay,” you sigh. He squeezes your chin one last time before letting go.

You walk away and open his truck door, hopping in the passenger seat. You lean against the chilled window. With your breath fogging up the glass, you begin to drift off to sleep as you recount the night’s events. But you can’t help but wonder… What the fuck just happened?

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 4 months ago

Text

Fifteen Weeks

Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, face sitting, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex (reader is tested and has an IUD, protect yourselves IRL), mentions of sex work, anxiety, Din is bad at feelings, farmhouse emotions, goats!, yes I made Din Djarin a schnauzer owner don't judge me. Words: 5,050

A/N: Here it is folks, the follow up to Fifteen Minutes, which I originally wrote as a standalone. Thank you to @goodwithcheese for speaking so highly about Fifteen Minutes thus making me revisit this draft and finally finish it. I also want to thank @frannyzooey for taking a look at the bare bones of this months ago. I really love these two and I’m so glad they finally get to eat soup together.

Masterlist

___

“So, where ya’ headed?” the Uber driver asks, turning toward the departures terminal.

“Just to see a... friend."

“Hm. Must be a special friend to catch a flight this early.”

“I guess he is,” you smile through a yawn.

___

Waiting to board. Can’t wait to finally see you! xxxx🙂

Hitting the send button, you shake your head still finding it hard to believe you’re traveling almost halfway across the country to meet a man. A man you’ve fallen head over heels for.

Can’t wait to see you too. See you soon.

His response arrives just in time. A nervous rush of excitement courses through your body before turning your phone off for departure.

You wonder if your seatmate can feel your leg shake as the nerves tap out against the plane floor. Sure, you’re excited, you’re ready to meet Din in person but there still is trepidation twisting inside of you. You’ve never done anything like this at all. You’ve never met a client and now you’re on a plane headed to one. You’ve known him for only four months, but the connection the two of you share is something you’ve never believed to be something you’d find. You’ve dealt with enough men wearing wedding bands who tell you they love you, that you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve seen, that you’re their whole world. Love is a ridiculous concept when you charge ten dollars a minute.

With Din, it’s different, it’s something that can be named, can be felt, can be solved, and yet so many questions about it remain. What do you call the quiet silence that exists between the two of you, happy to be on the phone keeping each other company every night? The small laugh and head shake he does whenever you tell him he’s cute? The random texts of his life that always brightens your day? The way he nods with zero judgment when he hears the ding of your new client alert? What do you call the decision that got you here on this plane?

You read the same page over and over in your book. Will you sleep in his bed tonight?

You give up on reading and stare forward at the little map on the seat screen. What does he smell like?

You look out the window and watch the clouds disintegrate around you. Is he just as nervous as you?

You turn the volume up and try to drown out your racing thoughts. Will this all be worth it?

Two hours left to find out.

___

You step off the escalator, eyes scanning the crowded baggage claim area for the reason why you’ve taken a six hour flight halfway across the country. Your hands grip the backpack strap tighter trying to calm the nerves overtaking your heart and brain.

There, right there, leaning against a column alone in the shadows is Din and the brown eyes you’ve only dreamt of seeing in real life. He straightens when you make eye contact, but makes zero attempt to move, still frozen against the column. You lose the fight to hide your smile and excitement hurriedly shuffling over to him, he smiles as you get closer, the same shy half grin he gives when he says good night. His hands slip out of his pockets as you approach. Goodness, he’s so big and handsome, he could be a heartbreaker of all sorts to anybody he sets his sights on. The phone doesn’t do his beauty any justice.

“Hi,” you smile.

“H-hey, I can’t believe you’re… here,” his voice sounds even smoother and deeper in person.

“I am,” you shuffle on your feet. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

He tucks his hands back into his hoodie pocket, his silent rejection shoots a pang of longing through you.

You thought it’d play out like a grand romantic movie, you’d jump into his outstretched arms and he’d never let go. Din’s rejection fills you with jealousy… screw all of the happy couples. You hate those movies now.

Touch me.

Of course he’s nervous, you’re nervous too, you’re just better at hiding it. He still leans against the column, shielded by the liminal space.

“Do you have luggage?” He’s right in front of you and yet you’re too scared to touch him, too anxious you’ll scare him away.

“Nope, just my backpack and carry-on.”

Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Oh, okay, did you want to leave then?”

“I didn’t come here to see the airport Din,” you place a hand on his hoodie clad arm. He looks down and stares.

Did you overstep? You couldn’t have, you just watched this same man orgasm for you last night while chanting how he couldn’t wait to paint you with his cum.

“Din,” you snap him out of his stare, “come on, I’m ready to leave.”

You know he’s not trying to reject you, but his nervous aloofness is overwhelming when all you want is for him to touch you… just once.

“I—uh, here, let me take your bags,” he mumbles, reaching past you to grab your suitcase. “It’s really cold, do you have a heavier jacket?”

“No, but I’ll be okay,” you reassure. The cold won’t sting nearly as much as Din’s seemingly innocent rejection.

“Here,” he pulls the collar of his hoodie over his head. “I’m used to this cold. You aren’t.”

You take the bundle of black fabric from his outstretched hand, not realizing just how cold you were until you put the hoodie warmed by his body heat on. It smells of him. Faint hints of campfire, wood, leather, citrus, and cinnamon. You wish you were wrapped up in Din himself, touching him, smelling him, tasting him. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Whatever is happening inside of him seems to be bleeding over into your mind. You’re now second guessing every decision to come here. He was excited last night, he texted you this morning how he couldn’t wait to see you, is he disappointed?

“Yeah, of course,” he nods and turns towards the door, walking away in quick strides leaving you alone in the dark corner near that damn column he’d rather touch than you. He has your suitcase and backpack, so either this is a really expensive way to get robbed or he has zero clue how his actions are affecting you.

He turns back to you as he reaches the automatic doors, his eyes wide with guilt when he spots you still standing in the same place he left you. Well, at least he feels bad.

You let a deep breath out to steel yourself and walk to him.

“I-I’m sorry, just not used to ever having to… you know…”

“I know, it’s okay Din,” you gently smile. What in the world have you gotten yourself into?

“I’m just—“

“Nervous. I know Din, it’s okay. I understand this is a lot.”

“It is, but just… know that how I’m acting is not how I’m feeling. I’m really happy to have you here. You’re so… beautiful and I—thank you for being here with me.”

There it is. Everything is worth it now. The early morning Uber to the airport, the neverending TSA line, the cramped airplane seat, the nervousness you feel. You’d do it all again to hear that sentence.

“Of course, I know. You’re okay,” you take his hand. If he’s not going to do it, you’ll do it. “Come on, let’s go.”

His eyes stay downcast staring at your hand wrapped around his.

You clear your throat to get his attention, his eyes snap up to yours. “Din, let’s go.”

“R-right. Of course. Right.”

He leads you out the door, gripping your hand harder when the bitter wind lashes against your skin.

The two of you weave your way through the parking lot until you reach a large silver truck. It’s clean with a few dents and scratches. Well taken care of but old.

Din opens the creaky door and helps you step up. The black leather seat is smooth as you slide across it.

Din places your luggage in the back before opening his door and deftly stepping in.

You hide a deep exhale when he starts the engine.

He clears his throat and you look over. “It’s–uh nice to see you in here.”

“I’m glad,” you smile, turning and reaching your hand out to touch his cheek. Your thumb finds the little heart patch on the side of his face, you’ve been thinking about how it’d feel since you first saw it. You can’t help yourself, he looks so delicate, as if he’s aching to be touched but too scared to ask for it. You’re holding a scared fawn in your hands. Don’t scare him, don’t move too quickly, let him figure things out on his own.

His lips part as he inhales, deep brown eyes staring into yours, the nervousness radiating off his skin fills the truck cabin. You wish you could just throw caution to the wind and force him to tell you exactly how he’s feeling, to slide across the bench seat and beg him to take you right here in this airport parking lot. You don’t. You pull your hand away and put your seatbelt on.

“I can’t wait to see your home. I’ve never been to an actual farm before.”

___

You’ve seen glimpses of Din’s home in random pictures he’s texted you or your nightly FaceTime sessions, but you never imagined just how picturesque it could be. A large white two story farmhouse situated in the middle of a vast expanse of green grass, a small tin roofed barn sits to the side with a herd of goats happily grazing. Din’s life must be so peaceful here, very different compared to your townhouse in the middle of suburbia.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse as he pulls into the driveway. “I can understand why you never wanted to leave.”

The truck stops in front of his home, a german shepherd and a little schnauzer run down the porch steps and head for Din’s truck.

“They’ll be fine with you, but let me get out so I can control them.”

Din gets out of the truck, you chuckle to yourself as his clipped directions to the dogs are drowned out by excited barks.

He opens your door and reaches his hand out.

“Grogu! Boba! Back!” Din shouts as he helps you step down. His raised voice makes your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know he could ever be this loud.

“It’s okay, I like your dogs, you know I think they’re cute,” you bend down and tap on your knees to beckon them over. “This must be Grogu,” you scratch his soft ears. “He does have big ears.”

“They’re not that used to other people.”

“Hmm,” you stand up and pat the top of Boba’s head, “sounds like someone I know.”

He chuckles as he walks up the porch steps and unlocks the front door.

Warmth fills your body as you walk over the threshold. White walls, worn floorboards, antique furniture, all of it taken care of and clean. Tidy and well kept up, a lot like his truck, aged but in better shape and made to last; a far change from your newbuild townhouse and IKEA furniture.

“Diiin,” you breathe, “it’s beautiful in here. Like… I knew you lived in a nice house, but wow, between this and the farm… when do you sleep?”

“I sleep enough. I’ll go get your bags, make yourself… at home.”

You take a seat on his couch, it’s perfect for him. Beige, simple lines, nothing fancy, not too comfortable, but probably the height of cozy after a long day working on a farm. Grogu jumps up and sits next to you, his little bearded face panting happily next to yours. You scratch his chest and praise him as he inches closer towards you. Boba stays near the entry, waiting for Din.

“Think he likes you,” Din says as he places your bags by the steps. “Don’t take Boba’s standoffishness personally he’s–”

“Like you. I know,” you smile.

“Did– what would you like to do?”

“Can I see the computer where you first talked to me?”

“Um, yeah,” he walks down the hallway leaving you behind yet again, “it’s just in here.”

You shake your head and rise off the couch to follow, obviously he’s not used to company.

You walk into a small office, everything has a place, efficient and tidy, perfectly Din. Paperwork stacked in neat stacks, a calendar with his sharp writing all over it hung on the wall, today’s date circled with your name written in the box.

A black monitor sits on a mahogany desk.

“This is the computer, huh?” you ask, running your hands across the black keyboard,

“It is.”

“So this is where it all began? You sat there, clicked on my picture, and now look. I remember when I first heard your voice,” you face him taking both of his hands in yours, “it was so deep and warm, it lit something inside of me.”

You guide his arms to wrap around you, his hands rest on your lower back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our first session ended. There was something so pure and mysterious about you, I knew you weren’t lying about wanting to know. It wasn’t some kink you had, I knew you needed help. I felt lucky to be the one to show you.”

He sighs as you rest your head against his chest hearing the rhythm of his heart. “I closed that window so many times before finally agreeing and joining. I-I kept on thinking about how I could talk to someone as beautiful as you, all it would take is just a click. You were so pretty.”

“Just a click,” you whisper, craning your neck up as Din lowers his head. His nose bumps against yours, his plush bottom lip is captured between your lips, another part of him you’ve wanted to touch since you first saw him. You finally kiss him, sweet and tender, his lips molding to yours perfectly. He pulls you in closer, his tongue hesitantly dipping into your mouth as you lick against him. The past fifteen weeks have finally led to this moment inside of this old farmhouse office in the middle of nowhere. Your Din and his soft lips, tense hands against your back, your soft coos mingling with his low groans, you could stay in this moment forever, if it wasn’t for Din’s phone beeping in his pocket.

“I’m sorry,” he pulls away, a bashful smile adorns his face, “I need to go take care of the goats before sundown.”

“Of course.”

He hugs you, planting a soft kiss against your forehead and inhaling your scent before leaving. He’s warming up…

___

Din loves soup. You know this by the nights you spend with him over the phone. The man eats soup almost every single night. Soup with bread, soup and a baked potato, soup and steak, soup, soup, soup.

You can’t blame him, the stew and homemade rolls he serves you for dinner are delicious. He shyly tells you it’s his speciality when he places the porcelain bowl in front of you.

You could get used to the farm life. A fire burns in the fireplace while the tv plays Din’s favorite movie he’s been wanting to show you, some film about a galaxy far far away and an unlikely hero. The man loves space.

His arm slung across your shoulder lies heavily on you, warming you inside and out. Grogu sleeps on your lap, softly snoring as you pet his gray fur. Din occasionally sneaks a kiss against your hair, you don’t know if you’ve ever been more comfortable in your life.

The movie ends, a grand symphonic score plays over the credits.

“That was really good,” you smile towards Din. “I liked it.”

A grin slowly stretches across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, thank you for showing me it.”

“You’re welcome,” he gazes at you, the same look he smolders through the phone, like he can’t believe his luck that you’re talking to him.

You attempt to fight a yawn and lose. Your eyes blink tiredly at Din when he reaches and rubs his thumb against your cheek.

“Did you want to,” he clears his throat, “sleep in my room with me tonight?”

“Only if you want me to Din.”

“I, uh, I do.”

“Okay, I’d like that.”

___

The airplane and long day washes off and rinses down Din’s shower drain. You use his washcloth and think of his hands touching you. You smell his soap and think of inhaling the scent as he holds you close. You don’t know what’s about to happen once you leave this room. If you’re this nervous, how does he feel?

Din looks up from the book he’s reading and watches you step out of the bathroom shyly padding over and getting into bed.

“What are you reading?” you whisper.

“Some book about a cowboy warrior in space…”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It’s good.”

“You know,” you look around the simple bedroom, “I see this room all the time, but only the wall behind your bed, hardly anything else. It’s been really nice seeing more of your life.”

He nods, blinking back to his book.

The night can’t end like this.

You grab the book from his hands and place it on the table.

“What are you thinking about Din? I never know what’s going on inside of you.”

“H-how pretty you look wearing that.”

You look down at the pink silk tank top and shorts and swallow down a smile. You specifically wore it because you know how Din’s eyes light up whenever you put it on. “It’s my favorite because it’s so soft. Do you want to feel it?”

He turns to you wide-eyed and gives you a solitary nod.

“Go ahead Din.”

His tan hand splays across your stomach, golden toned skin rests against the blushy silk of your tank.

“S’soft,” he murmurs to himself.

“Here,” you place your hand over his and press down, “really feel it.”

His eyes angle down watching your hand navigate his around your stomach to just below your breasts. His mouth sits slightly agape, thick brows furrowing in concentration as you slip his hand underneath the fabric, his trembling calloused fingers making contact with your skin.

“Am I soft here Din?”

“Y-Yes,” he stammers.

“Touch me, as little or as much as you want. Wherever you’re comfortable doing, okay?” you remove your hand from his. “I came here for you… whatever you want… I want..”

“I want to,” he gulps, “I want to touch you all over.”

“I’m all yours baby.”

His shoulders deflate with a groan, he trails his hand higher to cup one of your breasts. The tips of his fingers peek out of the top of your tank. Tan, well worked strong hands lay against your smooth skin. The sight makes you moan, your teeth gnawing at your lip, trying to qualm the temptation to touch him further.

“Take it off Din.” His dark brown eyes beam up to yours. “Go ahead baby.”

He grabs the hem of your tank top, softly bundling it in his hands and lifting it over your head leaving you bare chested.

“Kiss me and touch me baby,” you gently will.

His lips form over yours, his hands return to your skin, petting and caressing your breasts before you cover them, pushing them farther down your stomach. His breaths quicken against your mouth when you slip his hands underneath the band of your shorts.

“Fuck,” he pants against your lips when his hand meets the wetness seeping from your pussy. “Fuuuuuck.”

“You feel me baby? That’s how wet you always make me, ever since the first time we talked and all you were was a black square with a sexy voice. It’s like we were destined in the stars.”

“God damnit, you’re so soft,” Din’s hips buck into the air, his head thuds against the headboard when his thick finger slips in between your folds. “I-I-I oh god, I’m– I think I’m going to cum. I’m sorr–”

“It’s okay baby, I’m here, cum for me.” Your hand reaches down and grips his hard cock through his black sweatpants. “Cum for me Din.”

You feel a warm wet spot spread against your hand, pulling a moan from you..

“I’m--agh– sorry,” his big eyes stare at you, a hint of shame rounds them. “You feel so amazing.” He pulls his hand out of your shorts.

“No,” you whimper at the loss of contact. “I like it baby, I like that you like me so much that happened. Please don't apologize. Keep touching me if you want to. Do you?”

“God,” his eyes shrink in determination, “yes I do.”

“Okay baby.”

You sit in between his stretched out legs, lifting your hips to take off your shorts, spreading your legs wide, much the same way you do for your clients.

He stares at your exposed skin, eyes mapping every dip, curve and dimple of your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I can’t believe you’re here… for me.”

“Of course I am baby.”

His fingers trace the plains of your legs, moving their way up to your thighs. His face set in a determinative scowl, eyes fixated on your core as he inches closer to it, now aching and soaked for him.

“I-I’ve never done this.”

“I know baby, you remember our first call?”

He nods.

“Remember what I told you what I liked?”

Another nod.

“Do that for me baby, touch me. Make me feel good.” A thick finger meets your lips, tracing a line up from your entrance to your clit before softly rubbing a circle around your sensitive nub. He remembered.

“You’re so wet for me,” he breathes out, his eyes staying planted staring at your pussy beguiled by his own actions.

“I am Din, only for you. I think about you every time. I-I,” you moan when he sticks a finger inside, slowly pumping it in and out, “I only want you.”

“Only want you too, baby. C-can I taste you?”

“Ye–oh my god, yes Din, I’m yours, do whatever you want to me.”

“I’m yours, anything you wa–”

“Sit on my face,” he growls.

“O-of course.”

You crawl towards him, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips before straddling his face, your dripping cunt hovers right over his mouth. He grips your ass and pulls you down, smothering himself with all of your slickness. You cover him like a mask, he worships your taste like a religion, moaning and groaning into your sweet pussy. Your praises about how good he’s doing and how amazing you feel incant out of your mouth as he takes you to paradise. Plush lips suck and savor you, your hands grip the bed frame like a precious artifact, his devotion to you and your pleasure pulls a melting orgasm from you.

“Din, Din, Din,” you pray at his altar, knees bowed and quaking against his ears as he drinks your offering down. You’re shattered, everything you’ve ever believed in replaced by Din and his idolatry of you.

You move your lust drunk body off and lay down next to Din. His face shines with a gloss of you, his tongue peeks out and licks his lips, before sending you a shy smile.

“You’re amazing,” he incredulously mutters.

“You are too,” a doting grin lights your face before pulling him in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on him, a moan leaves your throat at the realization.

Strong arms envelop you, pulling you closer to him, his hard cock juts against the soft skin of your thigh.

“Already?” you pull back and tease.

“C-can I feel you?”

“Feel me?”

“Yes, c-can I… can we….?”

A rush of anticipation thrums through your body at the implication of his nervousness.

“Yes Din, we can. Are you sure this is what you want tonight? We can wait.”

“N-no. I want you, I-I want this,” he moves his sweatpants down, kicking them off.

“Okay baby, okay,” you kiss him, grabbing his face, petting the soft hair of his sparse beard.

He rolls on top of you, cradling your head between his strong forearms, a heated kiss licks into your mouth as his naked weight covers you. Your legs open in a silent offer for Din to take everything you have. You can just feel the heft of his cock ghosting against your entrance.

He looks down at you, brown eyes wide, plush mouth parted, brows softened with adoration.

You send him a silent nod and smile when his cock enters you, feeling a sense of honor that you’re the one Din has chosen for this. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The green accept button, the reserved man dressed in all black, the deep voice, the connection between two screens. Now, you’re here with Din, moaning and rolling your hips to accept the length of him.

His neck strains when he sheathes his cock fully inside of you, panting and groaning as he slowly rocks back and forth.

“You … feel … like … heaven… I love your pussy… I love your body…. I… love you.”

He freezes at the divulgence, body locked in shock at his slip.

Your face lifts in a reassuring grin. “I love you too,” your hand grabs his chin, bringing his lips to yours.

You love him, you’ve known it for so long, but here in this farmhouse bed you can hear it, you can feel it.

Your bodies meld, hips meeting, lips locked, he gives you everything, you give him everything. Your pussy clenches around his slow, full strokes. This is making love.

“Baby, I-I.. I’m going t–” he strains.

“Go ahead Din, I got you.” Your hands trail up and down the expanse of his smooth back. He grunts, burying his head into the crook of your neck, fevered breaths hit your skin as his cum fills you.

He rolls off, pulling you to his side and kissing the top of your hair.

“Wow… I.. are you okay?”

“What?” your head perks up.

“You didn’t… uh–”

“I did when you fucked me with your tongue Din, I’m very happy and satisfied.”

“Oh, I just… I want to make sure you’re good.”

“Baby, I am very good. Trust me.”

“I love you,” he breathes.

“I love you too Din…” you rest your head against his chest, the exhaustion of the day settling in, quickly lulling you to sleep. This is the way to go to bed.

___

The faint sound of running water gently rouses you from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had. The sun has barely peaked over the horizon, the room’s still shrouded in a lazy darkness.

Din’s long sigh echoes against the tiles of the shower like a siren song.

You pad out of bed toward the bathroom, pushing the door wide open.

Your mouth drops at the sight ahead of you… Din’s muscular, toned golden body shines underneath a glistening sheen of water. He runs a gray wash rag across his stomach, the mop of dark, curly hair right underneath his hand beckons you to look farther down. You’ve seen him so many times before, almost every night, but this is the first time you’ve been able to see all of him in person. Din is a big man, his cock matches his stature. Just as long, just as broad, just as golden. God, he’s gorgeous.

You knock on the doorframe catching his attention, surprise tensing across his whole body.

“Good morning,” you purr, “can I join you?”

He nods, his cock grows visibly hard when you walk over and get in. The warm steam, Din’s naked body, and the smell of Din’s cedar body wash engulfs you, this is the way to wake up.

“Mmm, the hot water feels good,” you sigh, leaning your head against his chest. Din’s cock rests heavily in between you, tempting you to touch it. “Want me to wash you?”

He groans a yes.

“You can wash me too,” you propose, squeezing a dollop of body wash onto your palm, running it across your chest before leaving suds on your hands. “Go ahead Din.”

Drops of water land against your skin as his trembling hands slowly reach for your breasts. He massages and kneads, both palms laying against your tits, his touch turns more searing when your hands land on his chest, rubbing in the soap along the dusting of hair stretched across his broad body.

Your nipples pebble under his nervous, firm touch and undivided attention. He hisses when your hands slink farther down, running across the damp curls of his happy trail leading you to his cock standing between his thighs, thick and dripping. You wrap a fist around his length, his knees weaken causing his body to smash against the wall, his face grimacing in pleasured agony.

“Fuck,” he pants, water rains down into his wide open mouth, splashing out with every exclamation of your name he repeats as he cums all over your stomach.

Your tongue runs up the column of his neck to his mouth, swallowing his rapid breaths.

“You feel so good against me,” he gasps against your lips. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I am baby, I am,” you coo, wrapping your arms around him, wishing you could live in this tiny shower forever. This is the way to wake up.

___

Din settles on the porch swing next to you, pulling your blanket wrapped body close to him.

“Is this what you do every morning?”

“Just about,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee.

“It’s nice,” you yawn, “early but nice.”

He chuckles, “You get used to it.” “Mm,” you rest your head on his chest, smelling the fresh dew and hay on his flannel jacket.

“I really like you being here,” he softly says.

“I really like being here too.”

“You know,” he gulps, “you can do your job here… with me.”

___

A/N: Thank you for reading! This ending makes me feel:

#din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin fic #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian smut #mandalorian fic #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian au #din djarin au

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decembermidnight · 8 months ago

Text

Beskar and Pearls

Summary: Wearing the luxurious gift the Mandalorian gave you while accompanying him on a business trip turns out to be a pleasurable torture.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, teasing in public, Dom!Din, sub!reader, possessive!Din, lots of dirty talk, Din being a sexy arrogant asshole, glove kink, masculinity kink, humiliation kink, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism kink, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies (wtf is a refractory period), a hint of overstimulation

A/N: the most coherent thoughts I have while ovulating. I have no excuse. This is FILTHYYYY I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Also a big thank you to @thefrogdalorian for making sure it's written in decent English and to @saradika-graphics for the perfect divider 💕

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian has just landed his ship on Nevarro after spending an entire month catching quarries in the outer rim. He has been away most of the time, but he made sure he'd make up for it every time he came back, too proud and stubborn to admit with words that he missed you, but demonstrating it by spoiling you with luxurious gifts and his body.

You look at him in reverential adoration as he dresses in his armour – a blend of his Mandalorian heritage and the many trophies he acquired from his victims, dark red in colour and dented after many close encounters with death.

He's just finished strapping weapons everywhere on his marvellous body when he addresses you.

“Hey. Got this for you. Wear it. We’re going to the market, I have some business to attend to,” Mando says as he hands you a small drawstring pouch he was hiding in his utility belt.

You immediately open it and its content leaves you speechless. It’s the sexiest piece of underwear you’ve ever seen – an expensive-looking black lace thong with just a string of pearls meant to go between your pussy lips.

If he wants you to wear it while in Nevarro, a lawless planet full of dangerous bounty hunters, you will wear it under the shortest skirt you have. The mere thought of his eyes glued to your ass, hoping to get a glimpse of it while being vigilant of other men at the same time, makes your head spin. You let out an aroused sigh and look at him, impassive as always behind the dark visor.

“That should keep you busy,” Mando chuckles and tilts his helmet.

You immediately wear it along with that short, flowy dress that also happens to be his favourite one on you.

“Let me see it,” he says as his hands grab you by the waist. He brings you closer to him and immediately lifts your skirt. He kneels before you and lets out a satisfied hum when he sees the tempting way the pearls disappear into your slit. The Mandalorian lingers there, dark visor trained on that heavenly view as his gloved hands caress your thighs. The sharp contrast between the coarse leather and your delicate, soft skin gives you a thrill of pleasure. You guess – you hope – the trip won’t take long.

His chestplate rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath and maintain his composure at the sight of your perfect cunt dressed in pearls. It’s incredible to see how something so dainty could turn out to be so perverse and sinful.

“Come on. Let’s go now,” he says as he stands up. Now at his full height, his imposing figure resumes towering over yours. You admire him in awe, taking in the broadness of his body and the way his armour magnificently highlights it.

He offers you his hand to descend the ramp and as soon as you start walking, you understand why he said that it would keep you busy. With every step that you take, the pearls pleasurably rub against your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet already. There's an aroused expression on your face that Mando does not miss.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.

"Good,” you can hear how pleased he is seeing you like that after you’ve barely taken a few steps out of the ship. You know the thought of you being so aroused in public while having to control yourself is making him hard. You decide to play his game, see where this leads.

Mando is walking right behind you, strutting proudly as he stalks you like a hunter follows its prey. You feel his gaze trained on your butt, so you accentuate the swaying of your hips to get more friction from the pearls and to seduce him even further, hoping to get a reaction from him.

"Shake your ass as much as you want, you're not getting anything until I'm done here. You're only getting this scum to see how pretty you are. I like it," he slaps your ass and chuckles. You bite your lip to muffle a whimper.

"See the way they're looking at you? If they dare even think of touching you, their dead body will touch the ground before they lay one finger on you," he whispers in your ear as he grabs your hand and positions it over his blaster.

"You are mine," he growls in your ear as he wraps his other hand around your waist. He pulls you close, until the flustered, naked skin of your back touches his cold beskar chest plate. A thrill of excitement traverses your whole body and goes straight between your legs.

No one would be so stupid to touch you, not when a Mandalorian is claiming you as his, not when you can feel his erection against your ass. The whole thing is making you light-headed with arousal, so much that you start to shamelessly rub your ass against his cock. His hand tightens its grasp around your waist as your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder. You sigh in his neck and his hand trails up and wraps around your throat.

"Behave now," the Mandalorian growls as you feel his fingers tightening their grasp, trying to restrain himself from giving into lust already.

“I want you,” you whisper in his neck.

“I know,” he replies confidently before releasing you. What an arrogant motherfucker. You want to make him so hard he’ll want to bring you back to the ship and fuck your brains out, putting his desire for you before his stupid pride and his business. You want him to surrender to his carnal instinct.

The more steps you take, the more desperate you become for relief from this agonising, yet pleasurable torture. The pearls are stimulating your clit mercilessly, without ever getting you close to an orgasm. Your cunt spasms and clenches and what's worse is that he knows. Mando has spent so long quietly studying his bounties that he can tell by the irregular way you're breathing that you're struggling with the sensation. You bet he's enjoying every second of it, smirking under the helmet.

Just before entering the market area, he pulls you closer to him one more time, making you gasp.

"Now be quiet. You wouldn't want to fuck up my business. Be a good girl," he whispers softly in your ear as you feel his hand on your lower belly—close, so close to where you want him the most. Maker, he’s rock hard. You can feel it. You can’t think of anything else when his erection is pressing against your ass and his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. He lets you go and you enter the market area together.

You try to divert your attention on whatever item they’re selling in the stands but it’s mostly weapons and things for bounty hunters that you couldn’t care less about. You can feel your arousal starting to drip down your legs, making your inner thighs slippery. Your swollen clit is pulsing and begging for attention, but Mando has been clear - you’ll get nothing until I'm done here, and you know nothing could make him change your mind, unless you play your cards right.

He grabs a seat in a beat-up wooden booth, his legs spread wide due to the massive erection trapped in his pants. There is an undeniable air of confidence and arrogance to him when he sits like this, looking so imposing and authoritative. You wish you could just drop to your knees and please him in any way he wants.

"Be my good pretty whore and sit here," Mando invites you to sit on his thigh and you immediately comply. You're so damn wet, you can't keep your legs closed.

"Hmm? Sitting here like this with your legs spread open? Do you want everyone to see your pretty cunt? Better let them know to whom this belongs, don't you think?" he coos in your ear with his husky voice. He knows you're both perfectly concealed and no one could see what's going on under that table. He's doing that just to prove a point—that you belong to him.

You nod mindlessly as his hand cups your cunt and stays there, still, without moving.

"Mando. Mando I need–" you whisper in his neck in a trembling voice.

"Oh. I know," he says, pleased when he sees how flustered you're getting. "Not yet," he growls as one of his gloved fingers trails your slit. He stops right before your clit, making you whimper and grip his arm tight in response. You dig your nails in his flightsuit as he feels how unbelievably wet you are.

"Hey. Behave now," he whispers as a Rodian approaches the booth and takes a seat, greeting him with a nod of his head. He immediately hands Mando a puck.

You have no idea what they’re talking about – you can't focus on anything else apart from the way Mando’s gloved hand holds the puck. You look at his fingers with pure lust, thinking of them touching your clit, pumping inside your cunt, the coarse leather caressing your skin.

You let your hand trail on his inner thigh and he stays surprisingly calm, not flinching one bit as your fingertips slowly slide higher, until they finally meet his cock. He is so unbelievably hard, you feel him throbbing underneath your fingers as you trail them all over his length. The Mandalorian won't betray any emotion, which turns you on even more. He's perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but you bet he'd love to throw you on that table and bury himself in you.

As soon as the Rodian hands Mando a handful of credits as an advance, he leaves.

"Please. Please, I need you," you whisper in his neck.

"I'm not done here. Be patient."

The throbbing need between your legs causes you to ache so badly that you don’t notice another man has approached and taken a seat until he begins speaking with the Mandalorian.

They're speaking in a foreign language, and Mando’s interlocutor does not seem happy. Judging by their tones of voice and gestures, they appear to be negotiating the fee for Mando collecting a certain bounty that the man needs capturing and he is displeased that Mando commands a high price. You’ve learnt over the time you’ve spent with the Mandalorian that there's not much room for negotiation with him. He has leverage since he's regarded as being the best bounty hunter in the outer rim. The way he speaks is so confident, it makes you even wetter how he does not lose composure while the other man is basically yelling at him.

He starts running his thumb on the string of pearls digging in your slit, feeling how wet you are for him as he keeps talking to his client while you're sitting in his lap, doing nothing but looking pretty. You're his slut and he wants everyone to know it, but you have to act cool even as he teases you under the table. You have to control the way you breathe, you can't let even the smallest whimper out. Why is this so hot? Why is he so hot?

In the end, the man hands him a hefty amount of credits and rises from the table with a huff, muttering and cursing as he goes.

"Please, take me back to the ship and fuck me. I won't ask for anything else, please," you whisper sensually in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not done here," he tries to appear impassive, but as soon as you resume your touching between his legs, he jerks slightly. You smirk, satisfied.

"Mando…" you trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, feeling how hard his erection is while purring in his neck. His pants are thick, but as you stop right at the tip, drawing circles on it with your fingertips, you can feel the fabric getting slightly damp.

“You’re so hard…” you sigh sensually as you keep rubbing his cock. You hear a choked grunt from him, now that he can’t focus on his job anymore, now that he’s at the mercy of your teasing. You’re so tempting, acting so shameless in public, the thrill of someone noticing the two of you drives him insane and you know it. You’re finally getting your revenge. You can bet he's close to losing control. Mando is twitching in his pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier...

"Fuck it." He grabs you by the arm and you rush out of the market and back to the ship.

The Mandalorian doesn't even wait for the ramp to close behind him to bend you over the first crate he finds, kicking your legs open with his feet and freeing his throbbing erection. His gloved hands run up your skirt and position themselves around your hips, keeping you steady for him as he slams into you all at once. He meets no resistance from your drenched cunt whatsoever, leaving you breathless as you exhale in a loud moan. You're crushed between the crate and his beskar body, pleasurably forced to take his thick cock. You're only able to let out ragged groans and clamp tightly around him as he finally gives it to you just like you wanted.

"You. Fucking whore. Couldn't wait for me to finish my business. Wanted this dick so much, hm? Are you happy now?!" his thrusts are furious and relentless, his hips crushing your body against the crate with a devastating force. The angle at which he's hitting you is deep, so deep that you can't even prop yourself up on your shaky elbows. You're just getting brutally fucked without dignity.

"You get so disobedient when you want this cock. Maybe I should just tie you up and gag you?"

You can't even mumble words, too absorbed by the feeling of his cock thrusting inside of you, so aroused at the idea of him using your body for his pleasure.

"You're so wet. Damn. It must have been such a torture, right? To be so wet and turned on? Hearing you beg like that made me so fucking hard. Feel it. Feel what you do to me," he rasps as he rails you deep and hard.

The way the pearls are rubbing against your clit and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts are driving you close to the edge already.

"Mando, Mando, I'm–" you can barely mumble as you helplessly drag your hands against the crate.

"Yeah. Come. Seems like it's the only thing that will make you obedient. You wanted it so much, you can have as many as you want today."

'Thank you, thank you, tha–" your blissful chant is abruptly cut as the orgasm takes control over your body. Your cunt clenches hard around his thick cock and your legs jerk uncontrollably, barely touching the ground as he keeps you still and never stops drilling into you as you ride your high. The pleasure is so intense, it leaves you breathless as your cunt keeps involuntarily spasming around him in aftershock. You're panting against the metal crate beneath you, overwhelmed and reduced to a trembling, feeble mess, the coldness of it is a relief against the hot, flustered skin of your body that won't stop begging for him.

"Is this what you wanted, hm? For me to stop everything I was doing to come here and take care of you? Needy girl. You desperately wanted attention, hm?"

You can only mumble in assent, feeling the way he takes out his rage on you.

"Bet you would've let me fuck you in a dirty fucking alley if I wanted to."

"Y-yes–" you reply in a breathy groan, drenching yourself at the mere thought.

"What a slut. What if someone heard you screaming like that? What if someone heard how wet this pussy is when I fuck it? Fuck, you're dripping!"

For a man who barely speaks in normal circumstances, he sure does like to run his mouth when he's buried deep inside of you.

"Yeah. I bet you'd like it if someone saw me fucking you like the slut that you are," he pants and you start whimpering and clamping around him at the idea.

"I knew it. You're such a whore. But you are mine, and I won't let anyone hear these pretty moans and see this perfect cunt. They belong to me. To me," he growls.

"Yes – yes. I fuck–ing b-belong to you," you repeat mindlessly.

"Does it get this much to get you this wet? Just a string of pretty pearls? Looking so fucking good. So fucking good. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, Mando!"

"Shit, you're so tight. You're making me come," he says in a broken voice. His thrusts get erratic, as does his breathing "This cunt is so perfect, so fucking perfect," he emphasises the very last word before bursting, spilling hot and wet inside of you in a ragged groan, whining at how good it feels. His muscles tense and he gets rigid behind you, his head rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck! You're so hot. Spill all of your cum inside of me. Like this, yes!" you cry and start touching your clit, so turned on at the sight and feeling of his orgasm.

The sounds he makes as he comes are the hottest ones you have ever heard. The infamous Mandalorian – stoic, imposing and menacing – is getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re offering him. Your drenched, tight pussy is making that dangerous warrior crumble. You’re so aroused, you need more.

"Please, please don't stop fucking me!" you dare asking him.

"I won't," he grunts as he keeps burying his dick deep, so deep inside of you.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck, I need you to fuck me harder, please!" you plead as you feel his cum starting to drip down your hole. "Maker, please!" you say as you start frantically slapping and rubbing your clit as you hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, of his hips slamming against your ass.

"I won't stop. Fuck, I want more. I can't stop. You drive me fucking insane!" he growls, resembling a wild beast, completely overwhelmed by lust. You feel his cock still pulsing inside of you as you get even wetter.

"Look at this perfect cunt. You're so full of my cum, damn, you can't ever get enough of it, can you? Fucking cum slut. Look what you make me do. Just came inside of you but I can't stop fucking this perfect cunt. You want to drain me. Are you proud of yourself, hm? Making me so fucking hard in public and teasing me like the whore that you are."

"Fuck, yes, I'm your whore. Your slave. I'm so close, please–" you mutter deliriously while your fingers and the pearls are rubbing against your clit in a wet, nasty mess of your fluids and his cum. You come hard around him once again, strangling his spent, sensitive cock in your tight grasp and hear him grunting, his grip on your hips tightens and his whole body jerks, but he really can’t have enough.

"Yeah. Yeah. Come on my fucking cock, whore. Let me feel it." he encourages you, gritting those words between his teeth, fighting his own oversensitivity, so addicted to the way you feel around him.

He doesn't stop fucking you, not even after your orgasm. He keeps railing you relentlessly. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck your fingers, tasting the bitterness of his cum blended with the slightly salty taste of your fluids on your tongue. Its taste is addicting, the scent heady and intoxicating in the best way possible.

"You taste so good, Mando. We taste so good together," you drawl, overwhelmed by pleasure.

"Yeah, I bet we do," he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it to lift your head up, giving it to you even harder, making your eyes roll back in your head. You are screaming, completely entranced by the way his cock is still pumping hard inside of you.

"So damn loud. You like being fucked like this, hm?"

He hits even harder from this angle, keeping you nice and still for him to use as he pleases. You're so busy screaming that you can't even reply to him.

"Yeah. Scream as loud as you want. Let me hear how much you want it. I like it."

You can feel his cum dripping down your legs with every thrust, hearing the sloppy, squelching sounds your bodies make. Mando can't even restrain himself anymore, he’s moaning and sighing at how much he's enjoying it. Your cunt is spasming around him, turned on at the way he sounds.

"You like it, hm? To reduce me like this?" he says in between thrusts.

The truth is that yes, you do. You love making the Mandalorian falter with your teasing, making him so desperate and boiling with lust, he has to leave business to fuck you hard, so hard that any coherent thought leaves your mind. You love it when you can feel the man under all that beskar, when he makes you feel like the most important and beautiful thing in the galaxy.

"Yeah, you do," he answers himself as he slows his rhythm, slipping out of you completely only to slowly bury himself inside of you to the hilt, enjoying the view and feeling of his cock entering into your cunt dripping with his cum.

You bite your lip to muffle your screams just to hear him moaning and sighing as he feels the welcoming warmth of your cunt.

“Mando. Mando, please,” you beg as you feel your legs impatiently shaking as his shaft rubs that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust.

“What?”

“Harder. Please?” you beg, subjugated by that perfect teasing.

He slams into you so deeply that you feel it pulsing against your cervix.

“What? Like this? Hm?” he says as he starts to jackhammer you.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chant as you resume touching your clit.

“Greedy whore. Ready for another one? I'm not stopping.”

“Mmmm,” you can only reply as you feel another wave of overwhelming pleasure approaching.

You hear him panting as he gives you a few more violent, deep thrusts, driving you over the edge one more time.

“Yeah. Take it – fucking t-take–” he grunts when he feels your walls clenching around his cock, your orgasm pushing him over the edge, too.

A loud, violent snarl rips through his lips as he comes, filling you with his white, thick load once again. The grip of his hands around your hips turns to steel, your eyes roll up so high all you can see is pitch black as he keeps pumping his cock into you as you both ride your high. The feeling completely obliterates you, turning your body and mind into a helpless, exhausted mess.

A huge, satisfied grin forms on your face as you feel him slowly slip out of you and his cum starts dripping down your cunt and legs.

“Good work," he pants "now be a good girl and wait for me while I go back there. Don’t move one muscle and maybe we will pick up where we left off,” he says as he tucks his spent cock in his cum stained pants, not giving a shit about it, looking at the mess he made of you, disrupted and leaking with his seed. Wrecked, used, marked. His.

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crumbledcastle28 · 1 year ago

Text

Din Djarin: Come and Get Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.

Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.

A/N: happy dincember my people :)

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

(gif credit to pinterest)

“Why are droids always so angry?”

A deep sigh arose through your comlink.

“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”

Silence.

“You’re holding back your laughter.”

“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.

“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”

“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.

“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”

“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.

“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.

Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.

Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.

They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.

In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”

You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.

That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.

“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”

You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”

“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”

Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.

“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.

And here you were.

The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.

“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.

Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.

“Hey, Din,” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.

“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”

“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”

“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”

His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.

“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”

“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.

You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.

“Are we focused, Y/N?”

“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”

“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”

“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”

“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”

“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”

“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?

And why did you keep noticing?

You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…

…a music box.

“Bingo,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

“Very original.”

“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.

Din laughed too. He understood immediately.

You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.

“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.

“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”

As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.

You were suddenly unmoving.

“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”

The box fell from your grip.

“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”

“What’s going on?”

You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.

It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.

“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.

“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.

You could never pasts their tests. Never.

“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”

His tone was unconvincing.

“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”

“You’ve gotta find a way out.”

“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”

“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”

You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.

“I-I found one.”

“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”

You sobbed once more. “How?”

“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”

You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.

You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.

Din didn’t respond.

You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.

Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.

You grunted, falling back into the room.

“You get it?” Din asked, panting.

“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now stand up.”

You did.

“Walk to the window.”

You did.

“And jump.”

“What?”

“Jump now.”

It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.

You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.

A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.

You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.

You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.

You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.

“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”

Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.

“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”

You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

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dindjarindiaries · 7 months ago

Text

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “You could have died, you know.” “I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” and “I’m afraid of losing you, okay?”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

"Hey! Hey. Stay with me." There was a gentle tap on your cheek that smelled of leather and blaster fire. You groaned and blinked your eyes open, wincing as light caught the silver helmet that leaned over you. "Hey." The modulated voice was even softer that time. "You with me?"

You nodded, grunting as you sat up on your elbows. Din's hands continued to hold the sides of your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as his visor gave you a once-over.

"Easy." His command was gentle, rooted in nothing more than concern as his hands eased their way down to your shoulders. "That was a hell of a blow you took there."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me." You exhaled and began to stand. "We need to get back to the ship."

Din stood with you, one hand on your back and the other holding tight to your hand. If you weren't still somewhat disoriented, your heart would've been pounding at his touch and his proximity. "Only if you're able."

You huffed and raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine." You gestured with your head in the direction of the ship. "Let's get going."

Din nodded, drawing his blaster as the two of you began to run to back to the ship. There was no doubt the two of you had already taken care of your attackers, but it never hurt to be cautious. Din, however, was even more on edge than usual, his free hand staying close to you as his visor checked on you more than it did on the way ahead.

It was perhaps the most nervous you had ever seen him.

Once you were on the ship, Din secured the hatch closed behind you, and he wasted no time heading to the cockpit to get you off the planet. You collapsed into the nearest chair and took a few breaths, running your hand over your forehead as a slight ache began to arise. You had known you wouldn't be able to walk away from a detonator blast without at least a little pain.

You were so distracted by these thoughts that you didn't even hear Din return until he was kneeling in front of you with the medpac. You lifted your head at the sight of it and clicked your tongue as you shook your head. "Din, that's really not necessary."

He didn't stop shuffling through the medpac as he answered. "I'd like to make sure." Din paused and glanced up at you. "Please."

You couldn't help giving in to the pure worry in his tone. Your lips stretched in a small smile as you nodded. He returned the gesture and lifted a handheld scanner, using it on various parts of your head, arms, and more to make sure you were free of any critical injures. It time and time again chimed in the negative.

You watched him as he worked, taking note of the way his gloved hand shook as he held the scanner. His free hand was on your knee, and his touch pulsated every once in a while as if he was grounding himself to you over and over again. You furrowed your brow, and once he had completed his scans, you couldn't help speaking on it.

"Din." You reached out for the sides of his helmet, encouraging him to look at you. You searched his visor before nodding firmly. "It's all right."

Din held a breath in his armored chest, his shoulders tensing as his hand on your knee tightened again. His visor fell to study his grasp on you, as if you would fall away if he let go or looked away. After a long pause, he spoke in a voice so strained that it pulled on each of your heartstrings. "You could have died, you know."

You softened even more at that, your thumbs running over his beskar cheeks as you tried to soothe him. "I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about."

Din shook his helmet, lowering it until it was resting against the knee he wasn't still holding. His shoulders rose and fell with each unsteady breath he took. Your softness was exchanged for fierce worry of your own as you ran a hand over his helmet.

"Din." You utterance of his name was just above a whisper. He still remained where he was, practically curled up into you as he clung to you the best he could. "What is it?"

He didn't move even as he answered your question. "I'm afraid."

Your eyes widened at that. You had been convinced that there wasn't a single thing in the galaxy Din Djarin was actually afraid of. He had sure as hell proven that over your time together. "What are you so afraid of?"

Din sighed, lifting his helmet once again so that his visor could face you. His hand ran from your knee to your thigh as if the motion helped him to gain the strength to say the words he was holding so close to his chest. "I’m afraid of losing you, okay?"

You instantly fell apart at his vulnerability. Your brow relaxed as you held his helmet between your hands again and urged him to get closer. The way you moved to the end of the chair helped to close the distance, and soon, you were able to rest your forehead against his helmet. "You won't lose me, Din." You shook your head to emphasize your point. "Not now, not ever."

Din exhaled a troubled breath. "We don't know that." His gloved fingers drummed against your thigh as he fought for strength to go on. "I... have lost so much. It almost feels inevitable. I've put my head down and kept going, but..."

His breath caught in his throat. Your sympathy for him nearly made your eyes well with tears as you waited patiently for him to finish.

"If it were you..." One of Din's hands rose to hold your wrist in place. "I couldn't bear it. Not even the thought of it."

You tried your best to put on a genuine smile for him as you began to reassure him. "I'll be more careful, Din. Okay?" You kissed the center of his visor. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it's not easy."

Din huffed, and a wave of relief flowed through you at the evidence of the darkness starting to leave him. "Neither is jumping near a detonator to protect me."

You chuckled, shrugging as your face began to warm. "Well, you would've done the same for me."

Din tilted his helmet at that. "Yeah. In protective armor."

You closed your eyes and savored your closeness. "I guess you'll have to find me my own suit of armor, then."

Din's hand gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. "I'll be your armor."

You reopened your eyes, smiling at him before you wrapped your arms around his neck to embrace him. Your cheek rested upon the cloth around his neck and shoulders as you nodded to yourself. "Perfect."

din djarin tag list: @yorksgirl @zenrobbins0021 @cyaredindjarin @cw80831 @maddiedrmr

#hopefully this makes sense bc i wrote this while like half asleep HAHAHA #i just want to comfort him #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #prompts #dindjarindiaries

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jolalibrary · 6 months ago

Text

i’d look for you

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din offers you something else in a field of wildflowers

warnings: 18+, allusion to smut ONLY. soft!din. idiots who have feelings but don't know what to do with them. jo's writing din so it gets weirdly poetic again. wordcount: 2k notes: pairing is the same as other din fics by me. but don’t need to read to enjoy. written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge - this fic has made me smile so much, I hope it does the same for you.

“Can you do something for me?”

The question hangs, burns, in the air of his bed. Your eyes blinking awake, having been roused from slumber by his gloved hand on your cheek.

You’re aware he’s waiting, biting the inside of your cheek, as you nod.

Swallowing the longer answer which burns on your tongue, finding it now tastes of acid and wrongness, having been trapped inside for so long, having let it overstay its welcome.

You suspect he knows it all anyway. Likely as easily able to read you, as you are him. Able to hear the words you don’t say, just from the way you stare at him, like a written passage all on its own.

He helps you up, but doesn’t hurry you. You almost smirk at the purposeful, cautious touches on your side, trailing his gloved hand along the curve of your back as he leads you to the refresher, awakening thoughts more sinful than you suspect is his intention.

It’s then he tells you the time, but shares nothing else about why the ship is quiet.

“What about—”

“He’s asleep.”

Your mouth clamps shut, taking the clothes he hands you as you bury the rest of the questions. Each piece you slide on, you don’t shy away as he stands waiting. Letting him stare, letting him take in the sight of you in more light than he can when your bodies usually writhe.

Are you admiring me, Din? you want to ask. Do you feel the invisible string between us too?

Sometimes, you dislike that he told you the shade of his eyes, because you look for them. Peer through the visor with more hope than you’d allowed yourself to have before.

“Can you turn around?”

It should sound like a command, but his tone is softer, more brittle. Something unspoken within it, tightening around each letter, bending and forging with it—likely things he’ll never admit.

Still, you obey. Closing your eyes as you feel him behind you, his presence crowding and looming—recollecting when he’d been barer than he is now, draped over you.

If you will it enough, you swear you can feel his breath fluttering over your shoulder—remembering how he makes you feel full and sated, content and happy. The last time, you’d been in a haze, fucked out, blissfully aware of the naked fingers resting at the base of your neck as you came down and the way he had tilted your head back and swallowed your whine like he knew it belonged to him.

You do, you think, belong to him.

Not because he has taken, but because he has earned—he has proven. A thing which rises to the tip of your tongue and sears alongside the other words which linger and ferment.

“Trust me,” he says.

Not a question, but an ask. And you don’t mean to, but an unintentional gasp escapes at the feel of the soft, smooth fabric when it slides over your eyes. Light fades as though he clicks his fingers, blanketing you in night in the middle of the day as it tightens around your head—rendering you quiet, shyer, almost smaller, as your sense is removed, willingly given but taken all the same.

Then you stand, breath hitching, anticipation threading through your veins as you wait. For him to move, to speak, to do. Each second stretches into eternity, making a protest wish to appear. A change of mind, a declaration of wishing to do something else, than this.

But, you don’t speak it. Instead, dancing your fingers against the tops of your thighs, waiting, not patiently, but not rushing.

“Relax.”

You snort to smother the shiver that darts down your spine at his voice.

Unsure how one does such a thing when you hear the ramp going down, subtly listening to the sound of water running. You feel lost, adrift in a sea of darkness—of nothingness—with every fibre of your being yearning for a familiar anchor, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you fight the urge to whisper his name into the void, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the engulfing uncertainty.

Din, you think.

Wondering if he can hear his name in your mind. If he’ll come to your calling, hold your hand; allow you to ask if this is necessary, if this—

“Breathe.”

And you do.

Chest filling, lungs flooding—his gloved fingers sliding between your bare ones, rooting you as he repeats it. Calmness spreads through you inch by inch, in the same way he makes pleasure surge through your muscles.

He gives you a minute, a moment. Likely waiting until your head turns in the direction you think he’s in, before he leads, offering stony orders to be careful—one that almost makes you grin until your steps take your soles to meet something softer than his ship.

The smell greets you first. It’s crisp and sweet—unlike anything you’ve encountered. Then the drizzle, how it forces your clothing to bind to your skin in a way that should feel suffocating, but instead feels freeing. Lips beginning to stretch, teeth showing as your cheeks ache with the intensity of your grin.

It’s then you feel him move behind you, the squelch of his boots signifying it. His chest meets your spine, the ghost of his touch along the side of his neck, before you feel the fabric over your eyes, loosen and light begins to seep in.

Then, it goes from nothing to everything. It being almost too much to take in all at once—the unveiled surprise, the thing he’d wanted you to see in its wonder and not in pieces as you descended.

And—

“It’s beautiful.”

It being the delicate blooms that stretch out before you. Each one a mysterious burst of colour against a backdrop of greenery. Vibrant splashes of colour, all wild and free, rising from the ground like the scenes from books you used to read. With each sway and ripple in the breeze, you spot more flowers. All of them stirred by the falling rain, watching each motion, all in awe; lost for words.

Distantly, you become aware that he’s moved to the side of you, but you’re unable to tear your eyes from the world. Not able to take your sight from the striking array of hues, every colour flower you think you could ever imagine swaying. Because there are iridescent blues and purples; there are some that glow with luminous gold and reds that look stained with blood. Shares you can’t even name, but are drawn to, reluctant to steal your gaze until you spot another.

Fingers reaching out, knee bending, you touch one, find it softer, more delicate than you ever thought. Tears springing to your eyes, chest swarmed with warmth as you admire the way the stems twist and spiral in graceful arcs, all beaded with the sparkling mist that continues to fall.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…”

Words fail you, a thing you’re not sure he could ever believe.

The only conscious thought is that you wish to live amongst them. No words exist that can describe how serene you feel; how as wild or as drenched as the petals you admire.

Because it’s then you really notice the rain, coming to sit amongst the living and the flowers. Ground soaked with it, it falling in torrents. Each droplet is a percussion against your skin, seeping through the layers and soaking you to the bone.

It's a different kind of loveliness. It’s all free, raw and unyielding, a mosaic of shades that aren't bowing or converting into a glistening canvas of liquid silver—even if the skies try to.

In truth, you thought you’d seen rain. But this is something different.

It is more akin to the sky having been ripped open, split in two, cracked, all but pouring its tears upon the land in a symphony of water and wind. Your fingers dig into the dirt, feeling his equally soaked thigh press against yours as he joins you, feeling him watching, studying, even if you can't see his eyes.

“My mom used to say that a flower sprouts when a person leaves us,” you say, soft, barely your normal volume. “I always wondered where they did—I guess I know now.”

Shifting, you peel your sight from the flowers to see his legs extended, his body so close to yours. So much so, it would be easy to lean into it. Into him. To press your drenched clothing against his equally drowned frame, seek warmth, and take what he will offer you in the brightness of the day.

“Din,” you continue, tuning in to the gruff noise he makes for you to continue, as you move your shoulder closer.

His head turns, the front of his helmet facing you.

Allowing you to see a bead slide gracefully down the silver, moving like a serene symphony—as others fall, and then another. All being left by the sky above, weaving paths you wish to trace with your fingers.

You shouldn’t, but you want to wipe each away with your touch, rest your palms against the places his cheeks should be and will your hands to remember the warmth you know they can be.

“Can you remember the last time you felt the rain on your bare skin?”

Silence. Rain slides against leaves before rolling down to the soil below. The sound increases and decreases in odd waves as the storm tries to square itself against the sun, against the blossoms which rise like an army unwilling to cower.

“No.”

His reply is rough, croaked out through the modulator—caked in openness you’re not sure he wishes to show.

And, it makes a memory resurface. Sharp and clear. The first time you’d felt him unmasked, the vulnerability etched into his features—frame tense, rigid. Nervousness flowed through him as easily as the blood that races. How you’d kissed him, felt his cracked lips gain confidence against yours as his muscles rippled under your palms.

In a different way than then, you reached out, offered comfort—providing something you’re not sure he easily is given.

“A person could get lost here,” you sigh, the words practically tumbling out.

A stillness follows, one only punctuated by the rain. That is, until he shifts, until you hear him exhale, before adding, “Not you.”

Dragging your eyes from the landscape, you watch as more droplets slide and skate down his helmet, against his armour. Desperate to cling. It’s nothing but mesmerising, making him appear like he’s made of the sky. Reflections of the flowers there, muted shades mirroring.

“No?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just one. “Wouldn’t let you. I’d find you.”

Smirking, you turn back to the view. “You’re good at that—practically a professional.”

He allows a beat, lets your shoulder settle against him—the heels of your boots digging into the ground of this place, hoping a little bit clings on and comes with you.

“I’d look for you.”

Breaking your gaze from the flowers and the falling rain, you rest them on his helmet. On him. On the space you think the brown eyes he’s told you about are currently watching you.

It’s slow to appear, taking its time to spread up into your cheek as the implication of his words ring out. Look, not find; search but not hunt.

“I wouldn’t run to begin with.”

You feel it, the shift, slight tilt of his head at your words.

And you swear you hear him breathe good, light almost airy—before gloved fingers find their way between yours again. Soaked, sodden. But neither moving as seconds become minutes.

“Cyar'ika?”

You hum, preening, almost blooming under the name he’s just begun using. Nestling further against him, watching the flowers sway and turn in the rain before his gloved hands come in front of you—a bunch of flowers held out to you, offered, given.

“My hair is brown too.”

You smile, taking the bunch, bringing them to your nose. “That’s nice to know.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fic #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #din djarin fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x reader smut #pedro pascal fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x f!reader #jettsflora&faunachallenge #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

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gloomwitchwrites · 6 months ago

Text

Greener Things

Din Djarin x Mandalorian Female Reader (Clan Kryze)

Content & Warnings: canon-typical swearing, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, admission of feelings, search and rescue, mando’a language, Mandalorian culture & customs, fluff, light angst

Word Count: 3k

It isn’t until the woman he loves is in danger that Din realizes he’s wanted her all along.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // spring 2024 masterlist

Din observes the round fruit.

It does not hang from a tree or dwell within a bush. This one grows on a vine. The fuzzy stalk swirls over and around metal trellises. The fruit is a deep blue so dark it almost resembles space, but in the right light, it shines.

“It’s for fermentation.”

Your voice is soft, and yet Din cannot help but react as if you’ve commanded something of him. He promptly rises, turning in the direction of your voice. You flush with embarrassment as if you’ve walked in on him without his helmet. Arms tightening around the basket you’re holding; you bring it out in front of you like a shield.

Within the woven threads, Din glimpses the same dark fruit.

“Is it native to Mandalore?” asks Din, because questions keep him here. It gives him an excuse to stay a bit longer.

That is Din’s habit, and he is not all that interested in shaking it. The Growing Caverns are an extension of what they’re building here on Mandalore. Not only is the air breathable, but things are growing again. Din witnessed it on his second visit, when the stranded Mandalorians showed them all that they had done after the Night of a Thousand Tears.

Now, it’s a system. An effort to feed the ever-growing enclave.

You are but a small piece of that. A nurturer. Someone bringing life to the plants to sustain everyone else.

“No. It’s not native to Mandalore,” you answer, stepping closer to Din. He instinctually matches your movement. “This fruit is found on Kalevala.”

Your lips look so soft. Inviting. But it’s not like Din can kiss you. He cannot remove his helmet. Yet he can think about it. Even now, his thoughts meander outward, imagining what those lips might feel like against his lips. How they might feel against his skin.

“It likes the rolling hills and cliffs.”

“What likes the rolling hills?” asks Din absently, still focused on your lips.

“The plant,” you laugh, indicating the fruit with a nod of your head.

Din inclines his head because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. He was too kriffing focused on your lips that he wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying.

Your smile remains and it is such a sweet thing to Din.

He wants to capture it. Bottle it. Keep it with him always.

This whole interaction is indulgent. There is no reason for Din to be here, but he cannot seem to stay away. That first day, after Mandalore was reclaimed, Din planned on leaving with Grogu. But you appeared with that sweet smile, asking him for assistance, and Din answered without a second thought.

Now, he’s here, remaining on Mandalore, making excuses every day just to come see you.

Din glances around the large cavern. There are raised boxes with all sorts of plants growing from them. Others dangle from pots hanging from the cavern’s ceiling while others are bolted into the walls. Something is always different when Din visits.

All Din knows how to do is fight. And here you are, knowing how to fight too, yet using your skills to feed your people instead. It’s vastly different from how he was raised, and what he’s come to understand.

Things are changing for him.

Din clears his throat. Every day he comes, and every day he says the same thing.

“Things look good here,” he comments.

Your smile shifts to a knowing smirk, and Din is thankful you cannot see his face behind his helmet. Even with the insulation, Din is sweating.

“They are,” you agree, shifting closer to him.

Again, Din matches your movements, the two of you nearly on top of each other. Over the last few weeks, you’ve done this more and more. Leaning in, standing close to him, giving him all your attention. However, you never touch him, but Din wishes that you did, even if it’s just a passing touch.

But whatever Din feels in his heart, you are not of his tribe. You are of Clan Kryze. You walk the Way differently from him. You do not always wear your helmet. While Din accepts that both Ways are true, your path doesn’t completely align with his.

While he enjoys your company, and adores your smile, Din cannot act. Everything he feels must be buried deep. Hidden. There are some things that cannot be even if Din wishes they were so.

You shift toward him again and sigh, bringing the basket to rest against your hip. You suddenly appear tired, and Din hates that.

“Why do you come here every day, Din?”

To see you. To see your smile. To hear your voice.

How does he begin to answer that?

What answer will be acceptable to you?

Does he tell you of how his stomach flips when you say his name, or how his heart races the moment you recognize him across the room?

“It’s peaceful,” decides Din because it’s partially true. “I like it here.”

Your smile returns but it’s not as bright as before. Are you disappointed in that answer? Maybe. Din hopes that he hasn’t brushed you aside with his response.

“Will you stay on Mandalore?” you ask, and that gives Din pause. “I heard that you might leave us soon.”

Din has not been open about leaving Mandalore and returning to Nevarro. It’s possible that Bo-Katan might have said something in passing.

It’s best to be honest.

“I’ve thought about it,” he replies slowly.

You nod, your smile fading a bit. “I’d miss your daily visits if you left.”

Kriffing hell, Din isn’t strong enough to resist. The truth comes rolling out of him automatically. It’s a tug. A sharp pull. A snapping of string that cannot be undone.

“I would miss them too.”

It’s the right answer, and saying so soothes something within him. That sweet smile of yours returns, and Din has to dig down into every fiber of his control not to reach out and touch you.

Din clears his throat, suddenly nervous. “Let me help with that.” He nods toward the basket of fruit, arms extended.

You give it to him without resistance, and Din takes pride that he can at least do this one thing for you. Stepping to the side, Din allows you to lead the way, the two of you exiting the cavern to head toward the Great Forge. The passage is tight, made of solid rock, and as it spits the two of you out onto solid ground, you pause to glance back at Din.

Your gaze lingers on him and Din isn’t sure what it is he sees there.

But it is momentary. Fleeting.

You give him your back, continuing on, and Din strides up beside you effortlessly. Amongst the towering forges, Din glimpses the Armorer. She stares back, arms at her sides, observing. Din inclines his head in her direction and she repeats the gesture.

At the communal kitchens, Din drops the basket full of fruit off as you speak to another member of Clan Kryze.

It’s funny, this feeling, how Din could see a place for himself here. He has always been alone even with his covert. On Mandalore, with you, there is a sense of belonging, like he is supposed to dwell amongst Sundari’s broken halls.

“Thank you for your help.”

Din could melt into your voice. Let it swallow him up. Consume him.

“I’m always at your service,” he replies, turning in your direction.

You’re right there. So close. One touch can’t hurt. Just a small one.

Din’s fingers flex and then curl in before relaxing. He makes the first move, the backs of his fingers gently brushing against your bare ones. Your eyes widen, and for a moment, Din believes he’s ruined it all.

But as he starts to pull away, your index finger hooks around his, locking the two of you together. And you do not drop your hand.

Din stares into your face, and it is all that he needs. He is lost in your eyes, and your smile. How can he return to Nevarro?

Someone clears their throat, and the two of you jump back from each other.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Din,” you say quickly. “Thank you.”

Din backs away, departing with an inability to form words and a tightness in his chest he doesn’t entirely understand.

There’s a clamor near the Great Forge. A crowd.

Din navigates it, emerging from between two Mandalorians to the edge of the throng. Bo-Katan stands at the top of the stairs. To Bo-Katan’s left is the Armorer, and to her right are Koska Reeves and Axe Woves. There are several more Mandalorians that linger on the stairs. All of them are talking amongst each other.

One of the Mandalorians on the stairs speaks up, his voice projecting clearly over the crowd. His armor is the blue of Clan Kryze. “We need to send a party.”

A significant portion of the crowd vocalizes their approval. Din remains silent.

“We should,” agrees Bo-Katan. “But without knowing where they are, we’d be going in blind.”

“I agree with Rax,” says Axe. “Just volunteers. We all understand the risks.”

Several Mandalorians in the crowd step forward and voice their willingness to volunteer. Whatever Din has stepped in to, it’s not good. Glancing down the line, Din spies Paz Vizsla. He and Din have always been at odds, but Din needs answers. Melting back into the crowd, Din shuffles toward Vizsla. Din appears next to him, and the big guy gives Din a passing glance.

“What happened?” asks Din in a low voice.

“A creature from the Mines crawled out of its hole,” answers Paz.

“Attacked miners?”

Since retaking Mandalore, the Mines have been a priority. Groups go down to clear out all sorts of nasty things while other groups descend to fix pipes and passageways. Sometimes unrefined beskar ore is found. Sometimes they find armor absent its owner.

“No,” replies Paz. “Growers. Thing crawled straight up and burst through the rock.”

Din’s throat drops into his stomach.

“Casualties?”

“Two,” says Paz. “The rest were taken or injured.”

A twisted wrench within Din’s gut sends a wave of nausea through him. He wavers slightly on his feet before reality comes crashing back. Din swallows down the trepidation and terror, turning everything in him into steel.

“Who?”

Paz rattles off the names, and Din nearly sighs with relief. You are not dead, and you’re not amongst the injured. But you’re gone. Taken. And that simply won’t do.

Axe Woves raises his voice above the crowd again. “Who will volunteer?”

There is no forethought. No pause. Din steps forward silently.

If anyone will bring you back, it will be him.

Din silently slides into a crevasse, dropping down onto solid rock. Other Mandalorians move in the dark, their headlamps off as they creep closer toward their target. They too are silent, and though Din cannot see them, he feels them. They are everywhere, surrounding the beast in a circular maneuver.

The Mines are endless. Full of dangers.

This creature is but one.

Din uses his helmet’s internal display to see the world around him and pick up on heat signatures. The creature is large, easily taller than three grown men stacked on top of each other, and its fur appears coarse. While it has two legs, Din notices three sets of arms.

In the creature’s rage and confusion, it likely lashed out at whatever it could. It has the mental clarity to seize without injury, but the why is uncertain. And yet the why doesn’t matter to Din. What matters is that you’re alive.

You are alive.

Din has already found you. He just can’t approach yet.

It’s too dangerous.

When you work in the Growing Caverns, you don’t always wear all of your armor. There isn’t any point to it. It only impedes your efforts. Which is likely why you couldn’t entirely fight back.

Din will make sure you never remove your armor again. He’ll lecture you about it until you hate him for it. As long as you’re safe, that is all that matters.

The crevasse deposits Din into the den of the beast. It shifts, and Din freezes. You are right there, tucked against it. But you are not alone. There is another grower with you. The two of you have your arms wrapped around each other.

There are others, but their heat signatures no longer register on Din’s display. They are gone.

In that same display, Bo-Katan’s crouched body comes into view. She moves silently across the rock, Koska Reeves at her back. They approach you and the other grower, and with subtle movements, manage to shift the beast’s arm away from your confined bodies.

Din sidesteps, following suit until he’s right up on you. His hand is on your waist. At your back. You stiffen, and then melt, fingers digging into his flightsuit between the beskar. You do not speak. You say nothing. You only cling to him, and Din ushers you away as Axe Woves escorts the other out of the den.

Everyone backs up. Begins to retreat.

The moment Din enters the crevasse again, he moves swiftly. What Din would like to do is pick you up in his arms and carry you out. Yet it might cause too much noise or could slow him down. You’re not limping. You don’t appear injured.

From behind him comes a rumble. A shake that makes the rock around him shiver.

Din does not pause.

There’s a roar, and then a deafening boom.

The chargers have gone off.

Din tucks you against him as the crevasse widens. He bends forward to dip his arm under your thighs, and then he’s lifting. Running. Your arms go around his neck and you press your face against his chest.

Another round of chargers goes off but it is a distant thing.

There is no roar. No bellow of anger.

Din does not turn around to see if any other Mandalorians move with him. He is determined to return you home.

The twisting, tight rock widens again, and Din steps out into a cavern with a low ceiling. Din sighs with relief as several Mandalorians approach him, concern clear on their faces. Din eases you back to your feet, and though you wobble briefly, you remain upright.

You turn toward him, lips parted as if you want to say something to him. But whatever you wish to say is not to be. You are whisked away, and Din can only watch.

There is little Din perceives after that. He merely exists until he’s finally allowed to see you. For him, it feels like years. In reality, it is only a day.

“You came for me,” you murmur. The adoration and affection in your eyes is piercing, spearing him through the heart.

“I wouldn’t leave it up to anyone else,” replies Din blandly because it’s true.

You laugh, and then wince. “That’s sweet,” you say, but Din hears the doubt.

Din leans forward on the upturned bucket he sits on. Your makeshift cot is low to the ground, and Din has to look down at you in this position.

His heart hammers in his chest, the memory of hearing you’d been taken still fresh and hot.

“Your absence was a wound,” says Din. “I was hollow when I heard.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I thought you were dead.”

You fingers grip the thin blanket on your body. There is no armor. It was removed. Set aside. You’re only wearing a gauzy top and bottom. Bare feet poking out from the bottom of the blanket.

“I wasn’t,” you whisper, but Din isn’t sure why you’re resisting so much.

“Do you truly believe I wouldn’t come for you?” When Din asks, he is not harsh. He is genuinely curious. There is hope laced within the question.

You shake your head. “I knew you would. It’s all I thought about in the dark.”

“And I came.”

“You did,” you agree.

Your fingers loosen from the blanket and Din allows instinct to lead him. His hand extends, slips under yours, fingers intertwining. Your eyes are watery but there are no tears. Even if there were, Din would wipe them away.

“Why?” you whisper. “Of everyone. Why me?”

Din’s breathing is shaky as he settles himself. The truth is loud. Blaring. He needs to say it, to speak it into the ether, to know if you also feel the same. At least, in some capacity. He’ll take anything you’re willing to give him.

“You are my peace.”

You give him that sweet smile again, the one he wants to bottle up and keep forever. “Not the farming?”

Din chokes back a laugh, shaking his head. Your smile is teasing now. Kriffing hell, he wants to kiss you.

“You know what I mean,” he chastises.

“I do,” you affirm, grinning.

It is just the two of you. There is quiet. Peace.

Your free hand reaches out, fingers brushing over the beskar of his chestplate. They roam upward, pausing at the Iron Heart there.

“What do you want of me, Din?”

“You,” he says automatically. “I want you.”

Your gaze lingers where your fingers touch. It flicks upward. Holds. Though Din wears a helmet, he swears you can see behind it, peering into his very soul.

“I thought you’d pass like the rains,” you murmur, the tips of your fingers pressing lightly against the beskar. “That time would show the truth.”

“And did it?”

You nod. “You stayed. You always stayed.”

“Would you like me to stay?”

Stay. Stay here next to your bed. Stay here in this room. Stay here on Mandalore.

“You won’t leave?”

“Only if you tell me to.”

You sigh, and it’s the sweetest sound to him. “Then stay, Din. Please.”

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@hantheconqueror @glassgulls @childofyuggoth

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